


Roads Left Untraveled

by AeveeItazura



Category: The Venture Brothers
Genre: M/M, Sex, Shipping, Smut, things get gay fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeveeItazura/pseuds/AeveeItazura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete White and Billy Quizboy go on a road trip. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hakuna Matata

The sun’s rays shine directly into Pete White’s eyes. Blinking, he squints at the alarm clock. The bright red numbers blink, and he sighs, closing his almost as red eyes. The power clicked off last night. Cactus falling on a power line. One of Rusty’s abandoned experiments ran straight into the transformer again. Whichever, both have the same effect.

Muttering under his breath, he finds his phone. Temporarily blinded by the bright light, he sets the alarm to the correct time. Already awake, White figures he should go and see if they’ve got mail today. Throwing on a bath robe over his silk pajamas, he shuffles out of the bedroom. Walking past his partner, he sees Billy reading a new article on some surgery thing. He ruffles Billy’s hair and chuckles as Billy swats at him.

Heading out into the mid day sun, he grabs the mail. Sitting on top of the stack is a simple slip of paper. He shakes off a brown grey tarantula off the stack. Shuddering at the trail of sticky webbing clinging to the invitation, he flicks off the goo. Gritting his teeth, he reads over the note. Shaking his head, he shoves the note into the robe’s pocket and heads back into the trailer. He slams the stack of unimportant trash onto the counter in the kitchen. He’d usually place it on the table, but he doesn’t want to to disrupt Billy’s reading. Heading back into the bedroom, he pulls out the offending note. Reading it again, he rolls his eyes. White knows that his father never understood his fashion sense.

“Formal casual dress,” White mutters under his breath. “Coulda just saved himself the ink and said "Wear pants”.

Tossing his silk pajamas onto the unmade bed, he looks at himself in the full length mirror. He’s comfortable with his body, what’s the big deal? It’s his father’s party, so he has to play along. Digging in his closet he finds a pair of old jeans. Still in decent condition, he tugs the worn denim on. Smiling to himself, White sees that they still fit after all these years. He slips a pale blue t shirt on.He’s a little surprised to see he still owns socks after all this time.   
Dressed, he finds his old suit case shoved in the back of the closet. He sees that the stickers from college have survived. The random drawings and notes that his friends scrawled on the case as clear as they day they were drawn.

Running his hand against the case, he realizes that most of the names belong to people who have since died. Shaking the morbid thought away, he places the ancient case onto the small bed and starts packing. His sunscreen gets it’s own bag, for obvious reasons. A large sun hat is thrown into the sun screen bag. A pair of dark pink sunglasses and other miscellaneous items that they will need.

Satisfied that he’s packed, he heads into the kitchen. He sees that Billy hasn’t moved an inch, still engrossed in his surgery stuff. Putting the tote bag and suit case down on the ground, he stands behind the oblivious quizboy. Deeply engrossed in the book, White has an idea on how to snap Billy’s attention from it. Sneaking behind him, he slaps the book closed, and Billy jumps, startled. Before Billy can gather his wits, White captures his lips, cupping his cheek tenderly.

“Get packed,” White says. Pulling away from the startled quizboy, he hands him the slip of paper. “We’ve got a party to get to in about a week. I’ll get the car sorted out. Be ready in an hour.”

“Can’t we just go on a plane?” Billy asks. “It would be like way quicker and way cheaper.”

“I am not getting on a damn plane, Billy,” White says, crossing his arms. “Not after last time. Freaking embarrassing.”

“Come on White,” Billy pleads, standing on the chair. “It wasn’t that bad.”  
“No, YOU come on!” White yells, pointing at the quizboy. “That was a nightmare, Billy!”

He is not going to go through that again. Having to buy like a million mini bottles of sunscreen was bad enough. But then they pulled him aside because the machine said they were explosives. The TSA had to check every last one, that was too much. Unless it’s Rusty’s private plane, he is done with flying anywhere.

“Geez, all right,” Billy says, not wanting to fight this early. “Make sure that I can DRIVE this one, all right?”

White rolls his eyes as Billy heads into their bedroom to begin packing for the trip. Pulling out his phone, White makes the proper arrangements for a rental car. All he has to do is go and pick it up. Putting his phone away, he yells to Billy he’ll be back in ten minutes. Grabbing his tote bag, he decides to leave the suit case behind for now. Putting on the shades he stuck in the bag, he still has to squint at the bright sun peeking behind the clouds. Plenty of cloud cover, so for now he doesn’t have to cover himself in sun screen. Hopping onto the moped, White heads off to pick up the rental car, tote bag secured.

The directions to the rental place memorized, White autopilots his way there. He is not looking forward to this one bit. He still hasn’t told his father about him and Billy. He still has nightmares about when he told his father about his “preference”. Being found out like that sends a shiver down his spine. Billy is a private person and so far only Rusty, Billy’s mom and Shore leave know about them. And Shore Leave only knows because he walked in on them when they were at Rusty’s. Maybe he’ll get out this one unscathed by his dad’s shenanigans.

Parking the moped in front of the rental agency, he takes off his pink sun glasses. Blinking in the harsh sun before putting them back on, he reaches into the bag. Going to be one of those days, he thinks as he reads the instructions on the can. Shaking it vigorously, he applies a thick layer to his bare hands. Yanking off the jacket, he sprays his arms and his face, closing his eyes tightly. The can says not to spray directly in the face, but his vision is pretty much fucked anyway, so what’s the harm? He slides the jacket back on, still not taking any chances.

Protected from the sun, he pushes the door open, ID and credit card in hand. The wait was short and he chit chatted with the clerk as they check his information. Everything checks out, and they hand him a receipt, his driver’s license and credit card back. Greeted with a cheerful wave from the clerk, White rolls his eyes as he opens the door. Cramming the receipt and plastic card into his jacket’s pocket, he goes outside. Waiting for the valet or whatever they call them nowadays to drive the car around. Leaning against the moped, tote bag slung over his shoulder, he’s already bored.

White knows Billy is going to flip when he sees what car he rented. And that is why he used his card instead of the Conjectural technologies credit card. If he is going to suffer, he is going to suffer in style. Billy shouldn’t be too pissed at him for this indulgence. He even made sure that the seat is adjustable so that Billy can drive when he’s too tired. Billy can’t get mad at him for that. Mindlessly playing Fruit Ninja on his phone he looks up, and he grins as he sees the rental car pull up.

The valet parks the car a few spaces over, the engine quieting. He knows he’s smiling like a high school kid and he doesn’t care. The silver rims of the Mustang shine like diamonds in the sun. Nice and clean white stripes streak tire to tire. Gorgeous glossy red coat like a vampire’s kiss, clean pitch black leather interior. A nice wide back seat, the galloping horse polished on the front of the snubbed nosed hood. He nods to himself approvingly. He runs his long fingers lovingly over the smooth hood of the convertible.

White wouldn’t be able to tell this Convertible from another. All he knows is Mustangs are super indulgent cars, and that is what he wants for this trip. The valet hands the keys over after verifying his information. White makes sure to nod in all the right places. Making sure the valet is not in sight, White lifts the moped and places it in the back seat of the mustang. Dirt and gravel spilling onto what was clean leather, White shrugs. Putting the keys into the ignition, he does his best to ignore the why for the car and enjoy the experience. The car purrs to life and he makes his way back to pick up Billy and get started on this road trip.

Wind blowing in his pale hair, he could almost pretend this is just an excuse to spend quality time with Billy. No Rust or St. Cloud butting in time. That they are just road tripping to see the world’s biggest ball of yarn or whatever. But his imagination isn’t that good. That flimsy piece of paper is going to weigh on him the entire trip and weeks afterward. White shakes his head, trying to think positive thoughts. Maybe this trip will be a good thing for them. Much needed alone time without interruption.

White sees the trailer and parks in front of it. Slamming the door shut, White pulls the moped out of the back seat. Brushing the dirt and gravel onto the floor, he puts his tote bag in the middle of the seat. Leading the moped, he places the old vehicle under a dark blue tarp. Looking over the battered moped, he wipes away a spot of dirt on the light. He brushes the dirt and gravel from it’s worn tires, taking special care of the front wheel.. Double checking to make sure nothing can get under the tarp, he ties the tarp closed. Twenty years old and still in good condition, White wants to keep it that way.

He heads into the trailer to see if Billy is done packing. Sitting on top of his roll away briefcase, Billy looks like a disgruntled elf, arm being used as a rest for his head. White places his hands onto his small shoulders . Brushing the orange hair out of his way, White kisses Billy’s forehead. He squirms away, flustered and a bit embarrassed. White pulls him in a hug, enjoying the warmth. Pulling away, he sees his suitcase sitting against the TV stand.

“That was more then ten minutes,” Billy grumbles.

White shrugs dismissively. He grabs his suitcase and waits for Billy to hop off his black suit case so they can get going. Billy drags his case out and as White locks the trailer up, he hears Billy gasp. White doesn’t have to look to know that Billy is glaring at him. Not the first time he’s done something impulsive like this. Won’t be the last time either. White turns to face the irate quizboy, faking innocence.

“What’s up, fella?” he asks.

“White, that is a 2013 Convertible Mustang,” Billy states.

“Yeah,” White answers. “I used my card and the seat’s adjustable. What’s the big deal?”

He tosses his suitcase into the back seat with much less care then what he gave the moped. He can hear Billy muttering as he pops the trunk, placing his large suit case into the trunk. He closes the trunk as White hops into the driver’s seat. Billy shakes his head as he climbs into the passenger side. White grabs his sun glasses and sun hat from the bag in the back, a forced grin on his face as he puts them on.

He knows Billy isn’t falling for it. The quizboy just looks out the side as White starts the car. White expected this and pulls out his secret weapon. Billy turns to face him, not believing his ears. White knew that impulse buy from that late night infomercial was a good buy. He’s always been a sucker for classic movies, especially ones with catchy sound tracks. And so has Billy, even if he won’t admit to it. White starts singing along to the CD as Billy stares in disbelief.

“White, why are you singing that?” Billy asks . “I thought you hated Aladdin.”

“It’s the direct to DVD sequels I hate,” White corrects. “Come on. You know you wanna sing with me.”

Billy crosses his arms stubbornly. White rolls his eyes, expecting nothing less from Billy. Billy is always trying to seem more mature because he looks like a little kid. One of these days, he’ll get over it and learn how to just be himself. White continues singing “It’s a Whole New World” on his own. He has a little bit of trouble with the Jasmine parts, but he manages well enough.

As they drive towards Florida, White feels a twinge as they pass the “Welcome to New Jersey” sign. He ignores it and continues singing along to the Disney songs. He grins when he catches Billy singing bits of “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” under his breath. Within an hour they are singing “Hakuna Matata” in perfect harmony. The empty road removes any stigma they may felt.

This trip might not be all that bad, White thinks to himself. This might just be what he and Billy need. A nice long week of nobody but them. After the party, they can always continue the trip. Do some sight seeing. Lord knows they deserve a vacation after the year they’ve had. That thing with the E-DEN, St. Cloud trying to kill them both. Billy almost getting acid dipped, Billy’s mom hooking up with Action Man. Rusty’s place burning to the ground, them hooking up. A lot has happened this year, they’ve earned this ten times over, easy.

The CD ends and Billy puts in the next one. Billy already looks less stressed. A week of not getting kidnapped to do surgeries under the threat of death will do wonders for him. He looks away from the road and realizes that Billy is staring at him. Looking at his arm, he doesn’t see a sun burn forming, he would have felt it by now. And he applied a fresh layer at their last gas stop. It dawns on him that Billy is “appreciating the view” and White feels a blush creep up his neck.

Left arm lazily hanging outside the car, he enjoys the breeze on is bare skin. He discarded the light jacket back when they crossed into Maryland. His shirt hangs low, revealing a delightful swatch of pure white flesh. Faint chest hair glistens in the fading light, adding to the view. He laughs nervously, brushing wind swept hair back. The hat got in his way, so he just tossed in the back a few miles back. Bad timing for “Tale as Old As Time” to start playing. The sun is starting to go down, the sky a beautiful tapestry of reds and oranges and magentas. White tries to focus on driving. Nut finds it damn near impossible with Billy staring at him like a lion staring at a wounded gazelle.

“We should call it a night,” White suggests.  
“Hmm?” Billy says, lost staring at White.  
“I’m pulling in to the first hotel,” White says. “Getting sleepy, aren’t you?”

Billy nods, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. It’s best they turn in before he causes an accident. Billy turns off the CD player, “I Won’t Say I’m In Love” not easing the tension between them. A hotel is right up ahead and the vacancy sign is a welcome beacon for them both.

He pulls up to the hotel and almost leaps out of the car. He signs “one moment” to Billy and heads into the main office. A bored, gum smacking woman sits at the desk, tropical music playing on a hidden music player. He slides his credit card onto the desk. Dull green eyes stare at him as she runs it through the machine. The machine dings, and she hands him back the card and a key marked “24”.

He heads back to the rented red car and shows Billy the key. They grab their bags and head into the room. Looking inside, they see that there are two beds. Rolling his eyes, White places his bags down. That won’t do. They’ve shared a bed for the last twenty years. Bending on his hands and knees, White sees the beds do roll. He just has to figure out how to move the night stands out of the way.

While Billy is sorting out his bedtime ritual, White thinks on how to fix the bed situation. Humming under his breath, White drags the night stands out of his way. The offending furniture out of his way, White moves the beds together. He makes sure to drag the night stands next to the wall before plopping down onto the bed closer to the bathroom. Kicking off his buckle shoes, he tugs his socks off, along with his pants and shirt. Laying on the bed in just his underwear, he sighs.

Billy comes out of the bathroom, wearing his faded Rusty Venture pajamas. He scolds White for laying near naked on the hotel beds. White rolls his eyes and slides off the bed. He digs in his suit case and slips on the first pajamas he finds, royal purple button ups. It doesn’t matter because they won’t be on for all that much longer, he thinks.

He slides onto the bed, smiling coyly at Billy. Pulling away, he growls at the offending pajamas. Why Billy keeps the ratty old pajamas is beyond him. He’s even offered to buy him new ones and the quizboy still wouldn’t budge on the topic. Leaning back, White places his hands on his hips, pouting.

“Do you have any idea how much those kill the mood?” White asks, pointing out Billy’s pajamas.  
“What are you talking about?” Billy asks.  
“Billy,” White says, exasperated already. “Think about it?”

Billy looks at his pajamas, and looks back at White, clearly not getting the point. White shakes his head in disbelief. Billy is supposed to be the smart one of the two. And yet he can’t figure out why it’s awkward for him to be wearing pajamas featuring his best friend as a little kid. Course, Billy doesn’t know the other reason why it’s weird and White plans on keeping it that way.

“Billy,” White starts. “You wear Rusty Venture pajamas to bed. We are friends with Rusty Venture. We have been friends with him for like twenty years. I even went to school with him. We’ve played Scrabble and LOST to his kids. It’s weird, all right?”

Billy crosses his arms stubbornly. White knows that Billy has had those same pajamas since they met and that Billy is attached to them. At this point, it’s not just a weirdness factor but also a matter of cleanliness for White. White knows that Billy has done surgery in them more times then either of them can count. That is just not sanitary, no matter how many times he says he washes them.   
White tries a different tactic known as removing them for Billy. He yanks off Billy’s pants. Billy yelps in surprise as White tosses them across the room. Billy stands on the bed, little hands on his hips. White yanks Billy’s shirt off and tosses it in the direction he tossed the pants. White is glad he managed to not knock his eye patch off like last time. He’s pretty sure Billy still hasn’t forgiven him for that one.

“We are finding a store and getting you new pajamas,” White declares, pointing at the pajamas. “Those are going in the trash, as are the others.”

Billy stares at White, mouth agape as he processes what White just said. White sees Billy’s eye go red the split second before he pounced. Barreling off the bed, White’s head bounces off the ground. He groans as Billy settles himself on top of him. He is not giving the pajamas up without a fight.

“You happy now?” White groans, closing his eyes. “I’ve got a concussion.”

Billy lifts White’s head up, inspecting for any damage, turning it side to side. He drops White’s head back to the ground, satisfied with his inspection. He peers into White’s eyes. White makes a faint “oof” noise as Billy slides off him. Picking himself off the floor, he glares at Billy. Billy ignores him, smoothing his pajamas of wrinkles. White rubs the back of his head, which is now aching .

“What you glaring at?” Billy asks. “ You don’t have a concussion.”   
“That still hurt,” he whines.  
“What do you want me to do, kiss it better?” Billy snarks back.

White rolls his eyes. He is too hungry to want to deal with the cranky Quizboy. Grumbling, he slips his shoes on. Planning on grabbing some snacks from the vending machine, he almost forgot something. Grabbing his card, he has his hand on the door knob when he feels Billy tug the bottom of his shirt. Looking down, he sighs a world weary sigh.

“What?” White asks, voice clipped.  
“We can go find some new pjs tomorrow,” Billy says. “Just, don’t leave cause you’re pissed, all right?”  
“All right,” White says. “I’m grabbing something to eat from the vending machine. Anything you want?”  
“Uhhmm,” Billy says, blushing again.“ I was thinking we could just order in and not go out.”

White raises an eye brow and sees the phone book in Billy’s metal hand. It would be a lot easier and he isn’t in the mood to be stared at tonight. His hand slides off the door knob and he turns to face Billy. As a friendly gesture, he’ll let Billy pick the food. To be honest, he’d eat damn near anything as he had his hot sauce with him.

He tosses his credit card to Billy as he walks over to the bed. He lands on the bed with a thump as Billy stares at the pastel card. Looking it over Billy shakes his head. Tonight is not hte night to ask why White chose a Siamese kitten laying on a lilac blanket for his card design. He tries to get some kind of input about what White wants and all he gets is a muffled “I don’t care.” from the tired albino, face deep in the pillows.

“Chinese it is,” Billy mutters under his breath just loud enough for White to hear. The first restaurant with order over the phone advertised “authentic Chinese take out”. Billy picks up the phone and orders their dinner. After Billy puts the phone down, White reaches out to ruffle his hair. The one thing White never picked on Billy was his lisp, which he knows is a real sore spot with him. White remembers Billy practicing what he was going to order for hours.

While waiting for their food to arrive, Billy flips through the channels on the TV. Propping himself up on his right arm, White ismore interested in watching Billy. He hears a knock on the door and he rolls off the bed. Looking out the window, he sees a squat Asian man with a large brown bag with a black rooster punching a red pig on it. He looks over at Billy before opening the door.

As soon as he opens the door, he is hit with the strong scent of their order. The various smells coming from the bag mingle together. The single aroma that can only be described as mouth watering. The short man confirms his identity and tosses the bag of food at him. White closes the door, almost giddy with anticipation. He puts the bag in the middle of the beds, smiling as Billy pounces forward.

White sits on the bed as Billy sorts out what is what in the bag. Crossing his legs, he eyes each box as Billy inspects each one. He declares what each are once he’s figured out the contents. All six boxes inspected, White grabs a random box. the box says “Teriyaki beef” and he digs in with gusto immediately. Looking up from the box, he sheepishly smiles as Billy stares at him.

“What?” he asks, swallowing. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He waves a piece of beef clasped between the mass produced chop sticks. Waiting for Billy choose a box, White chews the strip of beef. It could use some hot sauce in his opinion, but it’s not bad for take out. Sighing, he knows Billy is going to make this into a thing if he doesn’t intervene. Looking at the boxes lined in neat rows, Pete points at one marked “Org Chik”.

“That one looks good,” White says.

Billy picks up the box and sniffs it. His forehead crinkles, distrustful of the tangy smell emitting from the box.

“Smells spicy,” Billy says, opening the box.  
“Want me to try it first?” White asks.

Billy cracks his chop sticks apart, nodding. White chuckles to himself. Billy is such a wuss when it comes to even the mildest of spiciest foods. Grabbing the box with his metal hand, Billy looks in the box, trying to find a decent sized piece. Billy spears a piece of orange chicken between the wooden chopsticks. A small speck of red clinging to the orange coloured flesh.

White can see the steam rising from the chunk of chicken. The sauce glistens like a jewel under the cheap lighting. Leaning forward, Billy pops the piece into White’s mouth. Chewing the morsel, he closes his eyes. He moans slightly, and he doesn’t care. It’s that good.

The fried skin on the chicken still has a satisfying crispness even after soaking in the orange sauce. Leaning back, White can tell the sauce was made from scratch. Perfectly complimenting the juicy flesh of the chicken, it’s the best he’s ever had. Tangy with a faint hint of sweetness, the sauce is sublime. Fresh chicken broth was used in the sauce, a flawless choice to him. Something about the aroma and the flavour reminds him of a long ago night in Rust’s dorm.

Cheap Chinese and even cheaper booze for a Christmas dinner. They could have went and got something better. But neither of them wanted to remember that their parents were too busy to pick them up. So, cheap chineste it was. His dad sent him like a hundred as a “Sorry I can’t spend Christmas with you” present. He pretended it didn’t bother him, but the two six packs he bought said otherwise.   
Mike’s parents came and picked him up last week and Rust’s room mate was picked up by his brother yesterday. Werner’s country didn’t celebrate Christmas, and he was looking around, eyes wide in wonder. Pete got him a Polaroid camera so he could show the folks back home that he was having a blast in America. The camera was a “Sorry for being a dick, kinda” gift.   
Werner was sitting in Rust’s bed, playing with the camera . He and Rust shared “war stories”, trying to top each other. They were wearing the sweaters that Mike’s parents sent them. Pete claimed the pastel yellow one while Rusty grabbed the “cheeky ornament” one. They explained that the reindeer on the sweater weren’t a blood sacrifice to Werner. Werner seemed less enthused about it, but he still was wearing it.   
Twirling in the office chair, Rust is cackling at his own stories. Something about the time that his dad got lost trying to rescue him in the Bermuda Triangle. Pete smiles, shaking his near empty bottle. When your dad’s a villain, your stories tend to fall more into the “He kidnapped the wrong guy” category.   
He empties the rest of the bottle, holding the mistletoe hanging on the end of the band out of his face. The bottle empty, he tosses it into the trash can, the bottle landing on top of the others. He goes over and reaches for another beer and ends up tripping over Rust’s legs.   
“Jesus Rust,” White proclaims. “Can’t you tuck your legs in?”  
Fumbling with beer in his hand, he leans on Rust for support. After this, he’s done for the night. He’s already going to have one hell of a hang over tomorrow. Looking up, he realizes that Rust has gone still, his eyes focused on the mistletoe hanging over him.   
Looking at Rust, he chuckles nervously. He realizes his hand is on top of Rust’s and he decides what the hell. He’s pretty wasted and so is Rust, so why not? Leaning close, White sees Rust’s eyes widen. He points at the mistletoe before kissing Rust. Rust puts his hand on his arm, trying to get some kind of leverage as we wraps his hand around his thin arm. White swears he heard a camera click, but it must have been his imagination. He doesn’t devote any mind to it, wanting to make this kiss last as long as he can.

Billy clears his throat, waiting for White’s verdict on the chicken. He feels a blush creep up his cheeks again. He swallows the bite of chicken. He mutters a “It’s fine” before diving back into his beef teriyaki . The flavourful beef is like ash in his mouth now. His appetite gone, he places the half eaten box on the bed. He slinks off the bed to go brush his teeth before going to bed.

White digs in his bag and finds the little baggy he stuffed his toothbrush and toothpaste in. Walking into the bathroom, he closes the door with a click, making sure to lock it. If he could brush the memories out of his head, he would. Right now, he has to settle for brushing the ghost of Rusty out of his mouth. He still remembers the flavour of kung pao chicken and that skunk piss beer of that night. Even though it’s been years since then.

The sharp peppermint snaps him back to reality. He knows he is brushing his teeth with more venom than is needed, but hecan’t be bothered to care. Filling a paper Dixie cup, he rinses, resisting the urge to gargle just to annoy Billy. Rolling his eyes at his reflection, he spits into the sink, wiping his lips on the back of his hand with disdain.

He rinses his tooth brush before sliding it back into the baggy with the recapped tooth paste. He’s always had more sensitive teeth, so he always made sure to have his own toothpaste handy. His dad used to stress flossing and mouth wash, but once White went to college, that went out the window. Brushing was good enough. His business finished and a touch calmer, he exits the bathroom. He sees that Billy had put away the Chinese in the small hotel fridge. It’ll be a decent breakfast tomorrow. Or a midnight snack if one of them or both wakes up hungry.

White hears some fashion show coming from the TV. That or one of those count down shows that got popular. For some reason, Billy can’t get enough of them. If White wanted to see morons fail, he knows how to go on Youtube and look it up. That or get that Dermott kid to play with nun chucks again. That kid is a lot like Rusty, once White thinks about it. Just a coincidence, he’s sure.

Shaking his head, he puts the bag back into his suitcase where it belongs. Squinting, the only light coming from the room is the TV and the tacky lamp on the night stand. Billy is already nodding off, the TV on for noise more then for any entertainment. White grabs the remote, clicking the TV off. Billy makes a half hearted protest as White flips the pulled down blanket over the tired quizboy. Sitting on the bed, he clicks off the lamp, the paint on the chain chipping.

He slides under the cheap hotel blanket. The smell of generic detergent clings to the thin blanket. White is grateful that it’s not lavender scented. He hears Billy grumble before settling into the embrace. No matter what, Billy has always been able to fall asleep without any trouble, a skill that is a mystery to White. White has had trouble falling asleep for as long as he could remember.

Well, that’s not the entire truth. He slept pretty well when he was at college. Not having to worry about some hero “saving” him all the time. And not having strangers wander into his room at all hours had something to do with it, he’s sure. White refuses to even acknowledge the other reason for his improved sleep at college. Not while his arms are wrapped around Billy, his dull orange hair rubbing against his chin.   
Nestling closer to Billy, he breathes in the soft scent of his shampoo. Some top brand anti dandruff stuff that smells kind of like gingerbread. White can’t recall if he’s ever told Billy that he’s always been fond of the smell of gingerbread. He knows its corny, but it always reminded him of home. Sometimes home was a giant spider skull or a too big for a little albino kid with a walkman mansion, but it was still home.

White closes his eyes, sighing . Least the first day of this road trip has been mostly without problem. A few bumps along the road but nothing that wasn’t smoothed over with some talking. If their luck holds, the rest of the trip should be a piece of cake. If only he could say the same for the party that started this trip.   
White knows that no matter how good the trip is or how much fun they have, it won’t change the destination. As much as he wants to be optimistic for Billy’s sake, he just can’t. He knows how his Dad is and he doubts he has mellowed out since they’ve last talked. All he can hope for is that it won’t end nearly as badly as the last time he went back home to his Dad’s place for a party. He does have to admit that it would be hard to top what happened back then.

Not wanting to think about the past anymore, White wraps a leg around both of Billy’s feet. Sliding his hand down, he runs his nails across the patch of bare stomach exposed under the sheets. He hears Billy gasp, a shudder running down his spine. Holding Billy close, he slips his hand lower, pushing the pants out of his way. A familiar heat building in his loins, he takes a chance. He nuzzles his nose against Billy’s shoulder, lapping at the exposed flesh of his neck.

Billy reaches over, running his metal hand through White’s hair. A few hairs tug on the metal hand, sending desire straight to his cock. Leaning into his caress like a cat, White groans, rubbing against Billy’s. Billy turns on his side and rolls on top of White, pushing him on his back. Adjusting as Billy straddles him,White grabs the quizboy’s hips to steady him. Craning his neck forward, he captures Billy’s lips. Prodding his mouth open with his tongue, White smirks as Billy melts against him.

With a practiced ease, White sweeps his tongue against Billy’s, coaxing him closer. Billy whimpers low in his throat, eager and aroused, wanting more. Pulling his silk shirt up, Billy rubs White’s exposed chest. A gasp interrupting White’s exploration of his lover’s mouth. Pulling back, White yanks off Billy’s shirt, sick of the cartooney words written on it. White grinds his pelvis against Billy, relishing the gasps coming from Billy. Grabbing the back of Billy’s neck, he pulls him close, continuing the kiss. Once he’s gotten Billy where he wants him, he yanks his own shirt off. He rolls Billy underneath, continuing his exploration.

White can’t think of a more perfect sound then the noises that Billy makes when in bed. The broken gasps, the mewling when he finds a particular sensitive spot. The way he whimpers and shakes when he is near breaking. The moaning, drawn out way he says his name when he comes. White could spend hours worshiping Billy’s softer body if given a chance. His body isn’t up for the challenge.

Grabbing the lube and one of the condoms he thought to pack, he locks his lips onto Billy’s. He pours a generous amount of lube on his hand. Slicked up, he slides a long finger into Billy. He slowly works a second lubed finger into him, crooking them at just the right angle to make the quizboy whine. Sliding a third finger in, he works Billy’s entrance until he is properly prepared. Wiping the excess lubrication on his bedsheet, he slides the condom, rubbing more lube on it.

Lacing his fingers with Billy’s, he slides his hardened member into Billy. Billy’s hand slams tight on his. Grasping his hand tightly, White waits for the pressure on his hand to subside . His thrusts get more erratic as Billy’s moans of pleasures grew louder and needier. Pulling his hand up to his mouth, White places an open mouthed kiss on the back of Billy’s hand. Running his tongue over Billy’s thumb he hears Billy cry out. Riding Billy’s climax before giving into his own, White sees stars. Panting faintly, he pulls out.

Tossing the condom in the nearby garbage can, he wraps his arms around Billy. Placing a gentle kiss on Billy’s forehead, White closes his eyes. White pretends to have already drifted off to sleep when Billy whispers “I love you.” before he fell asleep. Why he hasn’t didn’t say it back weighs on his mind before he actually joins him in slumber.


	2. Make a Man Out of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip continues and some uncomfortable things from White’s past are brought to light.

A sharp jab to his ribs is what wakes White the next morning. Rolling over, he smiles sleepily as Billy gets up and heads to the bathroom. Rubbing the sore spot where Billy jabbed him with his metal hand, White grumbles. Turning to look at Billy, he smiles. The smile fades as White remembers where they are headed. Looking at the alarm clock, he sees that they both slept well past noon. His mood ruined, he waits for Billy to finish up in the bathroom.

Billy leaves the bathroom, fully dressed and prepared in no time flat. White rolls out of the cheap hotel bed, stretching the kinks out of his tall frame. He may be middle aged, but he isn’t showing it minus a couple of kinks here and there. Rummaging in his leather suit case, he finds a pale red shirt and some plain denim pants to wear for the day. Grabbing his bag of toiletries and his hair brush, he walks into the bathroom.

White yawns, wiping the eye gunk from his eyes with the back of his hand. For once, he doesn’t take forever getting ready in the bathroom. Everything sorted out, he grabs a box of left over Chinese from Billy. He barely tastes the reheated noodles as he wolfs them down, wanting to get back on the road as quickly as he can.

Looking around the room, everything is already in order, thanks to Billy. Dragging the bags out the room, he tosses his suit case in the back of the Mustang. Helping Billy load his bag in the bag, he hands Billy the car keys while he returns the room key to the clerk. Done with that bit of business, he leaps into the passenger side. Smacking the GPS into life, he slips the sun hat on over his face, letting Billy drive for now.

They drive in silence, the soft jazzy tones from the radio the only sound either here. Every now and again, he peers over at Billy and can tell he is concentrating on something. He’d recognize that look anywhere. The same look he gets when he is waiting for the best time to ask a question. One that White really doesn’t want to answer but will be nagged into answering.

“So White,” Billy says. “I’ve been meaning to ask but what’s with the get up?”  
White shimmies up the chair, looking over at Billy in disbelief. Billy is dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, grey khakis with bright green ankle socks and sandals. Moving the hat up, he corrects his sunglasses.

“What are you talking about?” White asks.  
“White,” Billy says, looking at him for a brief moment before focusing back on the road.

White groans, hand sliding down his face. Did Billy just try and Bambi eye him? Not wanting to look again to confirm, he sighs heavily. If he looks, he’ll end up saying more then what he wants to. Why Billy couldn’t let things drop and go with the flow? Just let things be and don’t worry about things.

“My dad,” he says, voice dripping with snark. “Requested ‘formal casual’ dress for his birthday party.”  
“And that means pants?” Billy asks.

White nods, glad he and Billy are on the same page. Looking out the side of the car, he sees a sign advertising the best pancake house in the state. Pancakes for breakfast is a staple of road trips. White shakes Billy’s arm, getting his attention. He points at the sign, grinning like a child wanting a Happy Meal. He hears Billy grumble about not distracting the driver,. He still turns into the out of the way diner when it comes up an hour down the road.

White makes a big show of reading the menu over, trying to make up his mind. Like he didn’t already have his mind set the second he saw the scrawled pancake special on the white board . After Billy hails the waitress and orders the daily special of bacon eggs and waffles. White orders the Bananas Foster Extravaganza with extra whipped cream. He hears Billy try and not slam his head into the table as he asks if they could put some whipped cream on his coffee. He tries to not to smile like the Cheshire cat at Billy’s frustration.

He ignores Billy glaring at him as he builds a house out of the sugar packets and tooth picks. Billy pretends to be interested in the weird news pamphlet at the table. Billy sees the waiter coming up before he does and knocks his house out of the way. Before he can say anything, the waitress drops off their meals with a flirty wink. White rolls his eyes before diving into his pancakes.

Soft and fluffy with just the right amount of syrup, White agrees that they are the best in the state. Best pancakes he’s had in a while, at least. The burnt bananas crunch just right in his mouth. The bourbon caramel sauce has just the right bitter notes to cut through the hand made whipped cream. The whipped cream in his coffee was a bit much, he’ll admit. Even sneaking a piece of Billy’s bacon didn’t help remove the sticky sweet flavor from his mouth. The taste of sugar is going to linger on his palate for a while. It was worth it to see the look on Billy’s face.

They talk about the best Bonds actor as patrons sneak awkward looks at them. White gritted his teeth and ignores the stares. Part of him knows he should be used to people staring at him. Billy never once glanced up at them, used to the attention. They finish their lunch without incident. White pays the bill, having lost the game of rock paper scissors. Billy surprised him by picking rock, after the last five times picking paper.

Billy tosses him the keys to the car, expressing a desire to nap while White drives. A fresh layer of sunscreen later, White is tapping his hand against the car door as he sings along with a burned CD. Billy is asleep, sun hat over his face. Turning the music up, White chuckles as Billy grumbles about his music. Even in his sleep, he complains about his music.

Billy has complained that he hasn’t updated his music since college on many occasions. Even though he’s not exactly wrong, White still gets a bit defensive about it. He’s got a lot of good memories attached to that music, why would he give any of it up? He doesn’t complain about Billy playing swing music at six in the morning. Why should Billy complain about his music? They remind him of the good old days when he was a college DJ. He was even good at it, all the way up until the day he almost got expelled for a prank. He still remembers that day like it happened yesterday.

Pacing back in forth in Rust’s room, he knew he was screwed. Rusty’s room mate was at some away game, and Vernor and Mike were studying for a final. None of that meant anything to him. White was too busy freaking out about whether they were just going to kick him off the air or expel him. And then he’d have to explain what he did to his dad and that was not happening.  
Rust was trying to calm him down without much success. He knows that he has started repeating himself and doesn’t care. Rust grabs him by the shoulders and forces him into the chair at the desk. He goes over to the fridge and grabs a bottle from the fridge. He pours some into a red Dixie cup and hands to White. White downs the brown yellow liquid. The liquid assaults his taste buds and he spits the foul beverage out. His tongue tingles.  
“What the hell is that Rust?” he asks. “That was foul.”  
“It’s called tequila, White,” he says, refilling his cup. “Drink it. It’ll make you feel better. Not the worst thing you could do, now is it? ”  
He couldn’t argue with that logic, now could he? Taking a smaller, more careful drink from the cup, it went down a little smoother then the first. With some effort, he finishes the contents. Rust refills the cup for him.  
He won’t ever admit that he was drunk this quickly, but he was. Rust wasn’t doing any better then him,. Rust was on his third or fourth and was swaying to the music on the radio. White was suddenly struck with how soft Rust’s hair looked. He had to touch it. Reaching out, he goes to grab a lock of the silky red hair and ended up tugging Rust into his lap instead. Giggling at the startled look on his face, White forgot about the cup and tried to grab a loose lock of his hair.  
Not quite as graceful as he usually is, White dropped the cup in Rust’s lap. The contents of the cup ended up on Rust’s clean blue shirt and White just giggled as Rust got flustered. Rust couldn’t get mad at White when he’s in this state and White knew it. Hands reaching out to touch his hair, White is pleased to find it’s as soft as he was expecting it to be. White isn’t sure if he kissed Rust or if Rust kissed him. All he knows is his hands are tangled in Rust’s hair. And he is damn sure that faint copper taste is from his braces scrapping Rust’s lips. Neither of them are in any state of mind to really care though.  
Everything that happened that night bled together for White. A whirlwind blur of love declarations and sloppy drunken kisses. He woke up with a splitting headache and not a stitch of clothing in an unfamiliar bed. Rust was snoring peacefully, just as bare as he was. Cheeks flashing red, White gathered his clothes, trying to get dressed and avoid a scene. He got as far as his boxers and shorts before he heard Rust stir. Turning to face the music, he sees Rust propping himself up on an elbow, hair a tangled mess, eyes dull with sleep.  
“Don’t go,” Rust pleads.  
The pleading in his voice convinced White to return to the bed and more importantly to his arms. Hearing Rust sigh contently for once was worth everything to him. They spent the weekend together, cuddling and giggling. They only left the room to go drop by the cafeteria to get something to eat, holding hands the entire way. Neither of them cared what people thought or said. Young, stupid and in love and nothing in the world was going to change that. Or so they thought.

Shaking his head, White clears his head of the bittersweet memories. He takes out the CD and puts in a random Disney CD, not wanting to deal with old wounds. Not with Billy sleeping just across from him. His eyes getting heavy, he realizes they are right on the border of South Carolina. Keeping an eye out for a hotel sign, he pulls into the first one he sees. Parking the car, he reserves a room with the clerk, almost yanking the keys out of his hand.

White wakes up Billy, shaking him awake. Billy rubs his eye of gunk, muttering about time zones and how many lemurs it takes to fill a swimming pool. White chuckles at the disoriented quizboy, picking him up. He’ll grab their bags after getting Billy in their room. He carries Billy to the room, grateful the door is a slide key card. Juggling Billy and the key proves to be no problem. He places Billy on the bed and keeps the door propped open with a small door stop marked '37’. He goes back to the car and gathers their bags, slamming the door with more force then needed.

White knows he left a scratch in the car’s paint when his suit case scrapped against it. He couldn’t summon up the energy to care. He bought insurance for that sort of crap anyway. It’s a nice car and all, but it’s just a rental to him. Returning to their room, he sees Billy is a bit more alert now. Billy grabs the remaining four boxes of Chinese he put in the tote. They appear to be in good condition, so he reheats them in the microwave. While Billy is busy with the take out, White changes into his pajamas, not bothering to go into the bathroom.  
The microwave dings and Billy takes the boxes out, satisfied they are warm enough. He puts them on the counter. After doing some mental calculations, he pulls the four boxes apart, forming plates. He pours the two chicken plates together, doing the same for the pork plates. Looking at the two plates, he makes his selection. White grabs the pork plate, bending down to kiss Billy’s forehead.

Plopping on the bed, he chuckles when Billy scoots him over so he can sit on the bed as well. Handing him a pair of chopsticks, White rolls his eyes as they eat in relative silence. The silence gets to White before it gets to Billy and so he puts the makeshift plate down. Turning on the TV, he sees some generic cop show. Flipping through the channels, he settles on the History Channel. Putting the remote back in it’s holder above the bed, he turns back to his plate of fried pork and pork lo mein. Grabbing his plate, he offers some to Billy.

Smirking, Billy gestures with the chopsticks. White rolls his eyes and obliges the quiz boy. Billy feeds him a piece of kung pao chicken first. Grabbing a piece of fried pork with the chopsticks, he pops it in Billy’s mouth. White is not quite as coordinated as Billy is and drips a bit of the sweet and sour sauce on the pork onto Billy’s chin.

Before he has a chance to wipe it on his sleeve, White leans forward and kisses the sauce off his chin. White feels Billy’s real hand grab his hand sitting on the bed. Looking down, he swallows. Sliding his hand out from under his, he silences Billy’s protests with a quick kiss. He grabs their plates and sticks them on the counter. Not wanting to fumble for them later, White pulls out the bag of condom and lubricant he packed. He places the supplies onto the nightstand.

He turns back to climb back on the bed when Billy leaps into his arms, too impatient to wait that long. White whirls around, falling on the bed with a thump. Billy smile sat him, straddling him. White sits up, about to protest about the rough treatment when Billy captures his lips. Billy’s small hands on his cheeks rub soothing circles down his jaw. White decides to keep his complaints to himself and loses himself in the moment.

White slides his hands under the Hawaiian shirt, undoing the buttons with practiced ease. Running his hands down the bare flesh, he earns a hearty moan for his efforts. Shaking the shirt off, Billy flings the shirt to the floor. Rubbing bare chest, grinding against Billy for much needed friction, White growls in frustration. Yanking on his khakis, Billy unzips them, tossing them to join the shirt. Tugging on the blue silk shirt, Billy struggles to yank the smooth material off. White pulls it over his head, interrupting the kiss.

Tossing the shirt to the ground, he shimmies out of the matching pants. He places his hands on Billy’s cheeks, still amazed at how much bigger his hands look when compared to Billy. He kisses Billy’s nose, laying back on the bed. Billy’s cheek start matching his hair, and he buries his face in White’s chest. The fine near invisible hairs covering his torso a strange comfort.

“You know,” Billy says, swirling circles on White’s chest. “We never did me get new pajamas.”  
“We’ll do it tomorrow” White says, only half way paying attention.

Billy can tell when White has reached the point of being useless for conversation and takes over. White hears Billy chuckle at his heart printed underwear. White mentally checks new underwear on the shopping list for tomorrow. Underwear removed, he hears Billy swallow nervously. White leans up and chokes out a gasping whine, falling back as Billy engulfs his hard cock in his mouth. Grasping handfuls of bed sheet, White has no idea where the hell Billy learned to do THAT with his mouth. If that is what he needed to borrow the laptop for, he regrets putting up any kind of resistance. This is way better then a Buffy the vampire Slayer marathon.

He tastes copper as he bites into his fist to keep from screaming Billy’s name as he climaxes. Gasping, he raises his hand up, needing a minute to recover. Looking at Billy, he can’t help stare as Billy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Billy shies away, little embarrassed at how White is staring at him.

Grabbing his hand, White kisses him, tasting himself on Billy’s lips. Deepening the kiss, Billy reachrd for the lubricant and condom on the night stand. White sighs in relief when he sees Billy pour the lube on his real hand. White has always shied away from Billy’s metal hand. It was life like but every time he saw the hand, he felt guilty for doing that to Billy. Billy didn’t seem to mind the hand too much. He has caught him looking wistfully in the mirror, brushing his hair away from his eye patch.

The crinkle of the wrapper catches his attention and he hisses as he feels Billy remove his fingers from him. Sneaky as always, White wasn’t even aware of what Billy was up to until he was finished. He watches Billy roll the latex condom onto his dick in rapt fascination. Billy rubs lubricant onto his sheathed cock as carefully as he would wash his hands before a surgery. Hhe slides his entire cock into White’s entrance. Billy grabs a hold of White’s hip with his metal hand, steadying himself as faint welts rise to the surface.

Biting his lip, White moans as Billy thrusts in him, eliciting whinier noises from him. White takes advantage of his extra limber frame to grab Billy and kiss him. The lingering flavour of kung pao chicken and his own essence is alluring. He feels Billy still inside him, a faint low keening noise signifying Billy’s release. Sliding away to dispose of the condom, White lays in the hotel bed, a fine layer of sweat covering his body. Wiping the sweat from his brow he waits for Billy to finish up in the bathroom.

He hears the toilet flush and the door creaks open. Billy flops onto White’s torso, forcing an undignified grunt from him. Wrapping his arms around Billy, he kisses his forehead. Billy scoots the blanket over their naked bodies. The gonging noise of a famous crime show spooks both of them. White giggles in embarrassment. Billy looks at him before rolling his eye and scooting underneath White’s arms. Tucked under his arm, Billy nestles close. Blinking , Billy looks up at White.

“Hey White,” Billy starts, yawning. “Why don’t you ever talk about your dad?”  
“It’s complicated,” he sighs, arms wrapped around Billy.  
“Can’t you uncomplicate it?” he asks.

White closes his tired eyes, sighing to himself. Not exactly the kind of pillow talk he’s used to. Usually it’s useless trivia stuff until they fall asleep in each other’s arms. Billy introduced him to his mother, so he might as well explain why he’s waited this long to introduce him to his dad. Course, Billy and his mother get along, no matter how embarrassing she might get. And she never wanted Billy to follow in her foot steps. Knowing that he is stalling, White takes a deep breath.

“He never approved of my choices,” White starts. “In a way, it kind of seems like he didn’t approve of me half the time.”

White laughs, dismissing the ache he feels in his chest. He runs his right hand in Billy’s rough orange hair, combing out tiny knots and gnarls with his fingers. The feeling helps steady his nerves a bit. He keeps telling Billy that if he’d use conditioner his hair would be a lot sleeker and easier to take care of. Billy just grumbles about it being just him being fussy. Maybe he’ll find him some of that two in one stuff for Billy tomorrow. Sneak it in the cart when he isn’t looking or whatever.

“He wanted me to follow in his foot steps, I guess,” White says, hands stilling from their work. “I always wanted to work on computers, maybe some music on the side. He said it was just a phase. He said that about a lot of things. Then I went to State and he saw I was actually GOOD at it, so he eased off for a bit. He still wanted me to take over the family business as he called it. I guess he figured I’d come around and follow in his foot steps anyway. Guess I showed him, eh Billy?”

White looks at Billy and smiles as he shakes his head. Billy is fast asleep, snoring in White’s arms. Wonder how much he heard before he fell asleep. He clicks off the TV before settling into a more comfortable position for sleep. He knows that he should be more open with Billy since they’ve become “an item.” It just never feels like the right time. He knows it bothers Billy that they don’t talk about personal stuff often. He swears that he will tell him when the time is right, whenever that may be.

Locking his arms around Billy, he can’t shake the feeling that this whole trip might end up being a mistake. That he should call up his dad with some half baked excuse and go home and play XBox with Billy instead. A promise is a promise. And for all his faults, he does keep his promises. Even when he’d rather be doing anything else. The only reason he promised to go to this party was because it was the only way to get him to leave him alone. He just hopes that Billy doesn’t recognize the emblem on the invitation to the party. Keeping it in his jacket pocket might be the safest place for it until White is ready to tell Billy who his dad is.

White shakes that worrisome thought from his head. He knows he’s just borrowing trouble thinking about all the ways this trip could go wrong. The trip has gone without a hitch, and nothing bad is going to happen. They’ll show up, pretend to care about what some old guy he hasn’t talked to in years is doing and leave. They’ll promise to visit real soon. And then make excuses for why he hasn’t visited in so long. If everything works out, they can get back to their trailer and act like it was just a fun spur of the moment trip.

Curling close to Billy, he resolves to have fun on the trip. He knows that Billy will grumble about leaving the food out. A lecture about ants and other pests will be made and White will make a half hearted promise to do better next time. A common enough occurrence, he could recite Billy’s lecture from memory. That’s how you get creepy crawlies in the trailer. Not good to leave food out like that. He’s too comfortable to even want to think about moving. He feels the comfort now is worth the later grievance. Stretching out a bit, he drifts off to sleep, content for now.

White wakes to Billy shaking him awake, saying his name in a worried whisper. Looking around wildly, he hears Billy mutter he was having one of his nightmares again. White takes in a shaky breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Somehow in the middle of the night, Billy had managed to wriggle himself free from White’s grasp. Billy places his hand on White’s shoulder, the contact soothing in a way. Laying his hand on top of Billy’s he assures the quizboy that it was nothing to worry about.

White makes an excuse about needing to use the bathroom and slides out of the bed. He pulls on his discarded underwear and pants. He knows that fake game show host smile of is plastered on his face. The room dark except for the faint glow of the clock, he feels his way to the bathroom. Clicking the light on, he blinks until his eyes adjust to the bright light. Closing the door behind him, he closes the lid on the toilet, taking in another shakey breath. Sitting on the shrubby green toilet seat cover, he pulls his legs in close.

Rocking back and forth, he tries to think happy distracting thoughts. White closes his eyes, tears trickling down his face already. A quiet whimper escapes from him. He hates when Billy sees him like this. Especially when he can’t explain what is upsetting him. There isn’t an easy way to tell your boyfriend that you used to be in love with your best friend and that you dated. Or that he broke up with you with a letter because he “couldn’t be with you” anymore since he was head of a company now. And that your dad rubbed it in your face how he was right about “That Venture boy” until you snapped. He packed up his things and never looked back. A string of dead end jobs and a crappy apartment later, he ended up auditioning for a new quiz show. Not wanting to be recognized by his dad, he borrowed a room mate’s wig and make up. The people loved his personality and the rest fell into place.

Sure, he felt empty inside, but he was on TV now. He was somebody important. He even went to rub it in Rusty’s face. But when he saw him, he couldn’t do it. He could tell Rust missed him as much as he missed him. The pressure of living up to his father’s legacy was getting to him. His bodyguard’s clinginess wasn’t making it any easier for him. Every now and again, they’d run into each other and get to talking about their time at college. Sometimes one thing would lead to another and it would end up going nowhere. He knows Rusty and his inability to commit to him was the reason behind his dabbling into drugs like cocaine.

Wiping his face, White takes a series of deep breathes, not wanting to dwell in the past anymore. The past should stay in the past where it belongs. Running cold water over his face, he flushes the toilet. He knows Billy is listening in to make sure he’s all right. Opening the door, he adopts a fake indignant look as he sees Billy peering up at him, concern written on his face. He sees that Billy had thrown away the Chinese he left out. He can’t help the smile as Billy murmurs about not wanting to fall asleep in case White needed to talk. White is touched that Billy cares about him so much.

He slides back in the bed, ruffling Billy’s hair. He rolls over, settling into the bed. Comfortable under the sheets, White closes his eyes. His eyes shoot open when he feels something touch his back. He sighs when he realizes that it’s just Billy trying to get his attention. Some random thought popped in his head.

“White, you were talking in your sleep again,” Billy whispers.

White stiffens, mind racing at what he could have said. Of all the times to talk in his sleep, it had to be tonight. A habit he’s had as a child, he’s never been able to shake it. Sometimes it was good for a laugh when he was talking about some strange dream he’d tell Billy about later. Dreaming about how Rusty broke his heart into a million pieces is not one of those times. He was hoping he would have been able to avoid this conversation. Swallowing nervously he squeaks out a faint “Oh?”, the best he can do for a response.

“You were talking about showing Rusty something?” Billy says.  
“Oh, yeah,” White says. “It was just dream stuff. You know. Giant spiders and St. Cloud being a dick.”

He hopes that Billy believes his lie. Billy is already dozing off and doesn’t ask for details. Billy yawns, nuzzling close to White. He murmurs some comforting words before falling back asleep. White breathes a sigh of relief. It’s going to be a longer trip then he thought. Closing his eyes, he runs his hand through Billy’s hair. That is something that has always been able to calm him down. Having Billy nearby has always been a comfort. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

Yawning, White figures he should at least make an attempt at getting some sleep. White knows he can function just fine on less then five hours with cat naps strewn through out the day. But Billy would nag him about it. Citing a bunch of studies about sleep deprivation and how it effects you and all that medical crap. And he would keep at it until he finally gave in and promised to go to bed early. Then Billy will hold him to it. He’d rather just avoid that.He wants this trip to be as lecture free as possible. And if that means laying still and doing nothing until Billy wakes up, so be it.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done this. Nowhere near the last time, either. Course, when this happens, he’d usually just go and play on his computer. He’d take a nap on the couch when he got tired and be good to go. White finds himself drifting asleep from the boredom and embraces it. Eyes closed, he eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.


	3. Whole New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a restless night White is forced down a trip down memory lane.
> 
> DRINKING AND ANGST HAPPENS!

t doesn’t take a genius to tell that White slept poorly last night. Stumbling to the bathroom, he autopilots his way through his morning ritual. He doesn’t even care he parted his hair on the wrong side. Sitting on the un made bed with a cup of coffee he grabbed from the open breakfast they had, he sips it. No sugar or milk, just as black as his mood. The bitter brew is just as bad as he expected it to be. The desire for caffeine is stronger then the desire to dispose of the disgusting brew. Maybe if he takes small and slow sips, maybe it won’t taste as bad.

He manages a grateful smile when Billy fixes his hair after forcing a breakfast sandwich in his hand. He does not move until White eats at least half of the sausage egg sandwich. Sitting on the bed, he watches as Billy tidies the room before they leave. Even with the coffee, he yawns and catches Billy’s attention. He pouts when Billy demands he sleep while he drives. White bites back a denial of tiredness. Once Billy makes up his mind, White knows he won’t change it for anybody. The coffee isn’t going to be much help anyway. A nice cat nap could be just what the doctor ordered.

Sitting in the passenger side of the Mustang, he waits for Billy to come back after returning the room key. Sun hat on his head, he leans back in the chair. The door to the office slams shut behind Billy. Jumping out of the seat, he swears as the styrofoam cup slips out of his grip. The dark brew splashes onto the dark leather interior. He attempts to wipe up the mess with a handful of napkins. He can see the coffee is setting in already and calls it a loss cause. Tossing the napkins in the back seat, he investigates the dropped cup.

He sees that the cup still has some coffee left and decides to call it a small blessing. Sipping the rest of the coffee, he smirks as Billy adjusts the mirrors to his height. White finds it adorable how safety conscious Billy is sometimes. White rolls his eyes as Billy changes the radio station to some new age pop rock station. And he wonders why people ask how old he is. Listening to that crap when there is good David Bowie or Disney available right there.

His coffee finished, he crushes the Styrofoam cup. Looking in the back of the car, he realizes their isn’t a bag for trash like in the Conjecture car. Making sure their isn’t a cop or a high way patrol man, he tosses the crushed cup out of the car. He watches it land right in front of a “NO LITTERING” sign. He can feel Billy glaring at him but he just pushes the hat over his face. Billy won’t yell at him while driving. He’ll wait until they stop for gas to tear into him. Looking over, he figures that gives him an hour to rest before having to deal with the fallout of his laziness.

An hour passes too fast for him. The pungent stink of gas is what wakes him up. As soon as he moves the hat away from his face, Billy starts tearing into him about littering. Again. Groaning under his breath, he’s heard this lecture already. All that crap about protecting the environment and recycling. He doesn’t care if the chips he buys come in a recycled bag or not. If they taste good, they could come in a burlap sack marked “CHIPS” for all he cares. Billy cares about the environment way too much for White’s taste. He made sure that Robo BO was environment friendly as per Billy’s request. He even spent an entire weekend with Rust upgrading the Conjecture Car so that it was electric. Considering how it’s the environment that tries to kill him, that is more then plenty for White.

Walking into the gas station to fuel themselves, they split up. Still drowsy even after his nap, White knows he needs caffeine and sugar. White grabs an assortment of fruity candies, pastries and other junk food. A picture of a kitty on one of the energy drinks catches his eye, so he grabs a couple of those as well. Purchasing his treats while Billy continues to browse, White heads out. White places the treats between the seats. Looking at the side of the car, he runs his finger against the gash caused by his suit case. It’s not too deep, and he is grateful he decided to pay extra for the insurance. He has the feeling that the coffee and the gash are not going to be the worst of the damage the car will suffer.

He slides into the driver’s seat and works on adjusting the mirrors and seat to fit his stature. Clicking his seat belt in place, he rummages in his bag of goodies. Opening a pack of Swiss rolls, he stuffs the whole dark chocolatey pastry in his mouth. The treat is as good as he remembers it being. Dark chocolate and vanilla cream coat his tongue. He leans back, always a sucker for decadent flavours. He knows it’s a cheap mass produced pastry, but it’s a GOOD cheap mass produced pastry. The right ratio of bitter to sweet, he doesn’t care how “processed” or “artificial” they are.

Mouth full of Swiss roll, he waves at Billy as the quizboy walks out of the gas station. A large bottle of water and a premade roast beef sandwich in his hands. Putting on his seat belt, Billy scowls at the mess of junk food White grabbed. White shrugs, gulping down an energy drink with some woodsy cat pattern on the can. He tosses the can in the back seat, a cocky smile plastered on his face. Changing the station to an 80s techno station, White feels the tension from last night melt away. Billy rummages in White’s bag, checking over his purchases. White can hear Billy grumbling under his breath at everything he bought and he rolls his eyes.

“We are stopping at a place with REAL food,” Billy says, picking up a bag of fruit jellies disdainfully.   
“All right,” White says, handing him his phone from his jacket. “You find a restaurant we can agree on that’s next to a good hotel, I’ll pay.”

Billy sets on his task with gusto, his tongue sticking out as he scrolls through various web pages. They cross a couple of toll booths before they find one they can both agree on. An hour’s drive away, White follows Billy’s instructions to the Tex Mex restaurant. He’s a bit apprehensive about going to a Tex Mex restaurant this south. But the reviews for the place are all positive.

They check into the nearest hotel, making sure to lock the room behind them after changing. Putting the top up on the convertible, they walk around the quaint town, hand in hand. White isn’t sure what is the bigger reason for all the stares. How they look or that they are loudly discussing which Star Wars is the best. He really doesn’t care either way. If it makes them uncomfortable for two men to be holding hands in public, that’s their problem.

As promised, they find a clothing shop and finds new pajamas for Billy. He tried to get him to get some more adult styled pajamas, but he refused. White rolled his eyes when Billy grabbed ten flannel shirts. Each of them were just a different combination of blue and green. He didn’t say anything about any of the things Billy picked out. Not even when Billy picked out cartoon pajama bottoms. If Billy wants to have a cartoon cat declaring it’s hate for Mondays on his arse, he doesn’t care. White grumbled a bit when Billy tried to convince him to get something that isn’t pastel or white. He grabbed a five pack of crosshatched red boxers. Not that anybody besides Billy will ever see them.

Billy grabbed matching green ones, smiling at the look on White’s face. They made their way to the restaurant after dropping off their purchases in the hotel room. White was on his best behavior and only made one rude remark. When the waiter rolled his eyes when Billy asked for the adult menu, White wasn’t going to let that slide. Billy might be used to people thinking he’s a little kid or “Special needs” by now. But White sure as hell wasn’t going to let that slide. Questioning his skills is the quickest way to get the reaction he wants. So he said that there is no way Billy would be able to perform surgery with what’s on the table. By the time the waiter arrived, he’d already gotten Billy riled up. He wasn’t expecting Billy to use the salsa and a napkin to draw a rough diagram. That was just icing on the cake.

White even got Billy to order something besides a bean and cheese burrito. He refused to eat the Fajita Supreme with his hands and used a fork and knife. White rolled his eyes at how neatly Billy was eating the goopy mess. Maybe his middle name is Tidy. White’s jacket flung over the chair, he was elbow deep in enchilada sauce, having the time of his life. Splitting an order of churros, White paid for the night out. He even left at tip for the waiter as an apology. Walking arm and arm back to the hotel, White flinches when he sees the car. He shouldn’t have parked it under a tree. Red birds in the tree scatter when they get close and he closes his eyes.

Billy immediately heads into the room to grab some handy wipes to clean the car off as best he could. White sighs and changes into his pajamas while Billy is busy. The weather is still pretty warm, so he digs in his bag until he finds what he is looking for. Not his best pajamas, but the silver tiger striped set is comfortable and breath better then the rest do. Made of some light weight silken material, they behave almost like a second skin.

Comfortable and cool, he digs around his sunscreen bag and grins. He remembered to pack the hot cocoa bags for once. No need to rush to the nearest convenience store or raid the open coffee bar. Double zip lock bagged, the individual packets of mix have survived the trip unscathed so far. Taking a couple bags of bags out, he puts the rest back, humming to himself.

Digging out a couple of battered white mugs from the bag, he prepares the cups. The paper sleeves making a satisfying noise when he rips them open. To be honest, he actually forgot he packed the mugs until this moment. Makes his earlier littering that little bit worse, not that he cares. Dumping the contents into the cups, White smiles. He remembers the first time they had hot chocolate together.

It was their first winter living in the trailer together. White is used to being cold and didn’t mind too much. He just put on a sweatshirt or something if it got too cold. Billy is used to warmer climates. He was wrapped in every available blanket he could find in the trailer. White even went to a couple of thrift stores to grab some quilts. Billy grumbled about the colours, but he still used them. A bundle of blankets, the only part visible of the young quizboy was his remaining green eye. His orange hair is tucked into the mound of blankets, some tufts of dull orange visible if he looked close.   
The couch was his unofficial nesting ground and he wouldn’t budge for anything. White wanted to upgrade his computer with some parts he found at a couple of garage sales. But he couldn’t work with Billy right in the middle of the tacky blue couch. He’s the one who found it on the side of the road, a big white “Free” sign on it covering a rip in the upholstery. After he figured out how to get it to the trailer, he thought Billy would be grateful. Instead, he got mad at him. Billy wouldn’t even let the couch in until after he’d sprayed it with cleaning spray. Calling it a cesspool of human filth that should been burned, he still doesn’t like it.   
After some bargaining, Billy agreed to move over on the couch if White will go and make him hot chocolate. His desire to work on his computer greater then his laziness, he agreed. Watching from the couch, White rolls his eyes at the hidden glare from the wrapped boy. He ignores the glare as he grabs a clean mug from their kitchen. Rummaging around the cabinet, he finds the tin of hot chocolate. Yanking the foil seal off, he doesn’t feel like digging out a measuring spoon and fills the bottom of the cup. Eyeballing it, he can hear Billy grumbling from the couch. Something about not being precise or some other crap.   
Grumbling under his breath about Billy being an ungrateful brat, he drags the milk out of the fridge. He looks over and rolls his eyes. Billy’s remaining eye is wide, staring at the gallon of milk in his hand. Looking at the printed date, he sees that it’s still good. Opening it, he smells it and it still smells like milk. He places the gallon on the counter next to the mug and crosses his arms. What could he have done wrong now? Flicking his pony tail off his shoulder, he glares at Billy.  
“What?” he asks.  
“What are you doing, White?” Billy asks, pointing at the milk.   
He looks at the gallon of milk before looking back at Billy. It’s pretty self explanatory, isn’t it? Pointing at the microwave behind he tilts his head, scratching the back of his head curiously. White doesn’t see what the big deal is.  
“Making you hot chocolate so I can work on my computer?” White asks.  
“I meant with the milk,” Billy says.  
“I just told you that,” White says. “Making your damn hot chocolate. As you asked.”  
“You make hot cocoa….with milk?” Billy asks.  
“You don’t?” White asks. “What the hell do you use?”  
“I follow the instructions on the packet,” Billy mutters. “I never thought to use milk.”  
White shakes his head in disbelief. He grabs another mug, filling it with mix too. He pops the mugs into the microwave and waits. He grabs an oven mitt and hands it to Billy, along with one of the mugs. Billy just looked at him and grabbed the cup with his metal hand. He scoots the lump of blanket covered quizboy over. Placing his mug on the make shift table he keeps his computer stuff, he got to work.

After that, Billy said he couldn’t go back to using water for hot cocoa. He even made sure there was always milk year round for hot chocolate. It became a ritual for one of them to have hot chocolate waiting for the other when they got home from work. Or in White’s case, to apologize for being a dick again without having to say it. He has made his fair share of those hot chocolates. Sometimes many, many times in a day.  
White hums as the cups twirl in the microwave. Running his hands down the silk pajamas, he fiddles with a loose thread as he waits for the hot chocolate to beep. Right on time, Billy walks in, grumbling about northern cardinals under his breath. Must have been the birds in the tree. The mess handled, the used wipes tossed in a garbage can outside the room, he flops onto the bed. White tries to get the attention of Billy, who just grumbles. White doesn’t need a fancy degree to know that Billy isn’t going to move on his own.

Rolling his eyes at the flopped over Billy, he taps his shoulder to get his attention. Raising his metal hand, White places the mug on it. A muttered thanks is uttered as he rolls over, careful not to spill the hot beverage. Keeping the hot mug in his unfeeling metal hand, White sits on the other side of the bed. Sipping his mug, White feels that today was actually a pretty good day. A rough start, but not a bad finish. This trip might not be a mistake after all.

He sees Billy still hasn’t touched his hot chocolate. He’s just staring at it, brow furrowed in deep thought. A thin film is forming on the top of the cooling beverage. Billy puts the cup on the nightstand, tired of holding it, still untouched. White furrows his brow. Billy is usually finished with his mug before White has even gotten half way with his. He puts his cup on the counter and leans back. Crossing his arms, he gestures at the cup.

“Pally,” White starts. “What’s up?”  
“While you were trying to get the top up on the mustang,” Billy starts, his tone even. “When I was bringing in the bags, your case opened. You didn’t close your suitcase all the way so it spilled everywhere. I started trying to put everything back in the case when I found something. Something I don’t think you would have wanted me to see.”

Tired of having his arms crossed, he places them on the cold counter. Hands on the counter, he grips the cold fake marble. Heart racing, he tries to remember anything in the case that would be a cause for alarm. He just threw in some clothes and that was it. His mind an absolute blank, he shrugs. Out of his pants pocket, Billy pulls out a faded piece of paper. The folds still crisp even after spending a night in his pants.

“When we first got together, I asked if you and Rusty ever dated,” Billy says, waving the letter. “You said no. You lied to me, White.”

White exhales slowly between his teeth. He runs his hand through his pale hair, trying to figure out how to explain why he lied to Billy about this. Everything else, he’d been honest about. The coke, cheating for him on Quizboys. All the crap the OSI thinks Billy doesn’t remember but does. White couldn’t keep lying to him while sleeping with him. He thought that telling him everything else was enough and he could keep this one secret. A chapter of his life he has worked hard to pretend never happened. A chapter if he had his way, never would have been uncovered.

Billy stands on the bed, looking White in the eyes. Arms crossed, Whitee knows there is no easy way out of this one. Eyeing the mini bar, White goes and opens the door. He needs to be nice and drunk for this. Those mini bottles aren’t going to make what he has to do any easier. Finding the number for room service on the nightstand, he holds his index finger up while he orders. Might as well go full out and order champagne while they’re here. They wait in silence for the alcohol to arrive, Billy sitting on the bed quietly.

A single knock on the door later, the alcohol is delivered by a far too cheerful busboy. With a practiced hand, he removes the cork out of the bottle. Placing the cork on the counter, he doesn’t think they’ll need it. Grabbing his chipped white mug out of the bag, he fills the cup with the bubbling alcohol. Swirling the cup before drinking it, he deems it passable in colour. White drains half of it, the bitter notes burning his throat. He wishes he could say the flavour was passing, but it will have to make do. Looking at Billy, he sits on the floor. Legs crossed, he places the cup and bottle nearby.

“You asked why I haven’t talked to my dad in years last night,” White says, staring into the contents of the cup. “Rust was a big part of why.”  
“Rusty got to meet your dad?” Billy asks.  
“Well, yeah,” White says. “Not that I had any choice in it. That’s not important right now, Billy.”

Billy watches as White empties the mug before refilling it again. Looking at the cream coloured liquid, White knows he depends on alcohol a little too much. He knows Billy has expressed concern about it to his mom. He can tell by the way she looks at him sometimes that she knows. Like she’s concerned for him or something. Something that is kind of rare for White, once he starts to think about it. He’d rather not think about it right now, though. Tracing a crack in the handle of his white mug, he knows he’ll have to replace the mug soon. Maybe on the way back, they can find a goofy touristy mug to replace it.

“When I was growing up, Dad expected a lot out of me,” White starts. “Had a family legacy to live up to. And I wanted nothing to do with it. Dad figured it was just youthful rebellion. The pastels, the rock music, the computers, hanging out with normal kids, that sort of thing. At first, it kind of was. Trying to find some hobby that pissed him off. Just trying to get back at him for making Mom leave, I guess. Then I went to college and ran into Rusty there.”

Leaning back, he sighs. Taking another drink from his mug, he’s disappointed at how sober he still is. That just won’t do for him. Not if he wants to tell Billy the whole truth without trembling or his voice breaking. He knows that won’t help him. Billy might get the wrong idea and that would just make this whole thing way worse. Refilling the cup, he downs it in one gulp, the alcohol burning his throat. Shaking his head, that should do the trick. Looking at his long fingers, he can feel a faint buzzing starting in his fingertips.

“We hadn’t spoken in years. The compound was government personal only, so visiting were out of the question. And I was in boarding school. Anyway, that’s not important. We ran into each other and started hanging out like old times. I heard how he talked about his dad. How he wanted nothing to do with his legacy. Guess you could say we bonded over crappy dads and crappier legacies.

You know how I used to be the college DJ at college until I got kicked off the air? Rusty is the one who suggested I apply for the position. It only made sense when I got kicked off, I went to him. There was talk of me getting expelled, so of course I went to Rust for emotional support. He was my best friend since we were kids. Turns out he had a bottle of tequila stashed for emergencies. Which could have been they ran out of chicken nuggets at the fast food place Rust was nuts over back then. Anyway, this definitely counted as an emergency. Luckily, Brock was at some out of state foot ball game so we had the room to ourselves.”

White is temporarily mesmerized by the contrast of pale tan and white in the cup. The liquid masks the coffee stains in the bottom of the mug, he notices to himself. He shakes his head, trying to regain focus back on his story. He finishes of the cup and places it on the ground. That should be enough alcohol to get through his story. He picks up the bottle. Lifting the bottle of champagne, he realizes he’s already drank half of it on his own. Putting it back down on the floor, he turns to face Billy. His face unreadable right now, White continues, slurring his words.

“You know how I get when I’m drunk sometimes. That night was no different. I found myself wanting to grab Rust’s hair. Back then he had hair, of course. It just looked so soft, you know? So I grabbed his hair and it was just as soft as it looked. Then I was looking in his eyes and it was like something just sparked between us.

I woke up naked in his bed with a splitting headache. I tried to sneak out, like in those old eighties movies. Should have paid attention to those movies better. He used to be a real light sleeper,. I learned that one later. Anyway, he asked me not to go. So I stayed. We spent the weekend figuring out what we were going to tell the guys. Between the insane amount of sex, of course. Turns out, they already assumed we were together. Made things a lot easier.

Things were good between us. They really were. But then dad came to pick me up for Christmas break. Rust was helping me get my bag in his car when dad asked what he was doing for Christmas. When he found out his dad was too busy to pick him up, he invited him to come and spend the holiday with us. It sounded like a good idea at the time.

We kept our relationship to ourselves. I wasn’t ready to come out to my dad yet. Rust was still getting used to being in a relationship, let alone with his best friend. Dad was out one day and we had the house to ourselves. First time left alone in a week, what else were two horny college students going to do? Man, we were so eager to screw that we didn’t even hear the door open.

Anyway, next thing I know, Rust was trying to get his pants back on, saying "It’s not what it looks like,”. He’s apologizing over and over again as Dad screams about how he didn’t raise me to be “like” that. He threw Rusty out. Physically threw him out. He said I wasn’t allowed to speak to “That venture boy” anymore. That he’ll only bring me nothing but trouble. We didn’t stop seeing other, of course. We were going to be together forever and were going to make our own way. “

The room was spinning too much now for White to be able to concentrate on his story. Laying on the ground, he closes his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. Eyes closed, it’s a little easier to remember about what happened next. Even with alcohol loosening his tongue, the next part is hard to talk about.

"Then Rust’s dad died. He became different overnight. At the end of the semester, he left without telling anybody. All he left was that letter you found. He broke up with a fucking letter. Dad was right, not that was I was going to admit that. Not when I was heartbroken like that. So, I worked at some go nowhere restaurant until I saw the advertisement for Quizboys. Wore a wig from a room mate that moved out months back to make me look more "fit for TV”. The make up was the producers idea. They said I looked like a ghost.“

Laughing harshly, White puts a hand on the carpet. White can’t believe how comfortable this carpet is. Running his hand through the plush burgundy carpet, he finds it alluring to the touch. The texture kind of reminds him of a rabbit he had when he was a kid. He can’t remember what happened to the rabbit. It was so long ago. Lost in the soft texture, he doesn’t realize that he’s gone quiet for so long. He is startled by Billy nudging him with his foot from the bed. Looking at the source of the disturbance, he smiles goofily. He sees Billy roll his eye at. Putting his hands back over his chest, he sighs. What was he talking about again? He can’t remember.

"White,” Billy says, nudging him. “What happened after you started working for Quizboys?”   
“Well,” White says, hands migrating to his stomach, the carpet no longer interesting. “After they signed me up for like a five year contract on the show, I went to rub it in Rust’s face. His bodyguard was a complete bitch about "unauthorized visitors”. Course, it’d been a few years since we last spoke at that time. Not like I announced I was coming down or anything. We saw her get dragged off, I think.  
So, we started drinking like old times. Cause that’s what you do when you hang out with friends you haven’t seen in years. You talk about what you’ve been up to. Then you start talking about old times. After you’ve realized that even with all the fame and glory, you’re still alone. You’re along, missing your best pal, that’s when you do things you regret. You don’t regret it at the time, but you will. “

"So, what, you went to brag and ended up getting dumped again?” Billy asks, crossing his arms.  
“You have to be dating to get dumped,” White answers. “What we had was one of those you screw cause you miss each other but are too ashamed or whatever to be open about it. Every couple of months, I’d call him or he’d call me and we’d hang out, get drunk and fuck. Sometimes his place, sometimes my place. We did it in the dressing room once.”

“How long did that go on for?” Billy asks.  
“Eh, fifteen, twenty years?” White responds. "Last time we hooked up was when I went to Mike’s funeral. More of a pity fuck then anything else. I had my eye on somebody else, but I didn’t know if they were interested.“  
"Oh? Who was that? ” Billy asks, tilting his head. “Somebody I know?”  
“You could say that,” White answers.

White pokes Billy’s nose, laughing as Billy realizes who White is talking about. White knows if he wasn’t so drunk, he’d never have admitted being attracted to Billy for so long. Standing up like a baby giraffe, he falls onto the bed with the same amount of grace. He hears Billy put away the half drank bottle and the cup. He hears the click of the light turning off and the shuffling noises of Billy climbing into bed. Limp and drowsy from the booze, White drifts off immediately. What feels like not even a minute after falling asleep, he feels something pressing into his back. Swatting at it, he hears Billy grumble as he grabs his hand, stopping his attack. White frees his hand from the Quizboy’s grasp.

“What?” White whines.  
“I’ve got to ask you something,” Billy says.   
“I don’t know who Hank and Dean’s mom is”, White interrupts.   
“Not that,” Billy says. “It’s important, White.”  
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” White whines. “I’m exhausted.”  
“Fine,” Billy concedes. “First thing tomorrow, I’m getting a straight answer out of you. No wiggling out of it.”

White giggles. Straight answer out of him. Where had he heard that before? Probably his Dad being a dick about his fashion or something. Bitching about how he styled his hair or why he had bright pink leggings. He’s an albino. Black leather jackets and animal print made him look even paler. Pastels and bright colours complimented his complexion and the leggings showed off his legs. He’s always been proud of his legs and took every change to show them off. Once he found colours that didn’t wash him out, he stuck with them. It’s not his fault he’s a summer, the irony of it not lost on him.

“Little late for that, pally” he says, giggling still.

Billy groans his disdain for the immature word play. Billy smacks him with a pillow, ordering him to go to sleep. He hears Billy roll over and away from him. White scoots close to him, hating even the small amount of distance between them. Flopping his arm over Billy, he sighs as he nuzzles the back of Billy’s head. He could sleep anywhere as long as he had his little Quizboy in his arms.

White is too drunk to be worried about whatever “important” question is on Billy’s mind. If it can wait until the morning, it can’t be too bad. It’s probably something about his dad. He’s never talked about him before, so that must be it. Something minor that Billy had blown up into a big deal again. Like forgetting to refill the roll or mopping clockwise or something.

Mind clear but fuzzy, White falls asleep once more. He sleeps through the night, uninterrupted by memories of long ago pain. The same could not be said for Billy. He spent most of the night tossing and turning. He hopes that he keeps his nerve for what he wants, no, HAS, to ask his partner tomorrow. He just hopes White can tell him the truth for once.


	4. God Help The Outcasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete White and Billy Quizboy go on a road trip. What could possibly go wrong?

The sun trickles in through the opened curtain and White moans. Shielding his sensitive eyes, he can’t believe he drank so much. Choking back the nausea he feels rising up, he rolls over, burying his head under a pillow. Growling, he can hear Billy’s swing music playing from the bathroom. He never should have taught him how to program that damn thing. 

White knows he won’t be able to get any more sleep with a pounding headache, so he might as well get out of bed. Falling out of bed, he lays on the carpet. The carpet is like sandpaper to his face. Looking up, he sees Billy looking down at him, tooth brush hanging from his mouth. Making a random “Go finish up” gesture, Billy goes back in the bathroom. Picking himself up, White sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. Gathering himself up, he grabs some clean clothes out of his suitcase. Shuffling into the bathroom as soon as Billy is finished, he begins the task of getting up.

 

Splashing cold water on his face, White feels a little better. A quick shower later and he almost feels like he can take on the day. Tugging the underused belt on his denim pants, he heads back into the room. Billy is sitting on the edge of the bed, legs swinging off the side. Putting his hands on his hips, White tries to adopt a casual stance. Leaning against the door frame, he knows it’s failing.

“All right, Billy,” he says. “What’s the big important question?”  
Billy looks up at White before looking back at his knees. This is going to be harder then he thought. White crosses arms as Billy wipes his hands on his knees.  
“Do you love me?” Billy blurts.

Stunned, White starts to tip over before righting himself. Of course he loves Billy. They’ve been business partners and room mates for years. Nobody else has come close to meaning as much to White as Billy. Sure, he looks back on the time he and Rust were together with a kind of bittersweet fondness. But Rust never made him feel the way Billy makes him. Like he’s important no matter what.

White could have, should have said that. He should have grabbed Billy’s twitching hands and kissed each finger. He should have picked up the worried Quizboy and held him close. He should have assured him with kind words and soft butterfly kisses that he was his world. He should have kissed him with every bit of passion he felt. Anything would have been then what he actually did.

Instead, he laughed. Realizing his mistake too late White mentally smacks himself as Billy’s bottom lip trembles. He reaches out to the hurt Quizboy, trying to pull him into a hug. Pushing his way past him, he grabs his bag and walks out the door. White hears the car door slam and sighs. Sliding on his pink shades, he packs his things while trying to convince himself that they are all right. The car ride through North Carolina was awkward and silent. White tried to put on his Disney CDs to lighten the mood, but Billy kept turning them off. When he wasn’t turning off the CDs, he was staring out the side off the car. Watching the landscape pass by as White drives in silence. They stop at a diner that White knows Billy would like and still nothing.

When Billy went to the bathroom, he switched the sugar and salt. White knows it was cruel but he wanted something out of Billy. Just yelling at him would be better then this silence. Instead, Billy just poured the now salt filled container into his coffee. Hhe drank the salted beverage maintaining eye contact with White as he emptied the entire cup. And ordered another one. They ate in silence, he paid in silence, they left in silence. And White doesn’t know how to fix it.

Like a cliché in a poorly written fan fiction, it started to rain. Not needing a cold on top of the cold shoulder he is receiving, White fiddles around with the controls. The top up, the silence becomes more pronounced with the rain lashing at the doomed vehicle. The miserable mood continues even after they stop at a motel. At the border of Georgia and South Carolina, White estimates they will be at his dad’s by tomorrow. The day after that at the latest if they goof off for a bit.

After getting the room sorted out, Billy goes straight to the shower. White heads out to pick up dinner for the both of them while Billy is getting clean. It takes some time, but he finds a Chinese restaurant that does carry out. One of the downsides of small towns he has learned. Least nobody was staring at him trying to balance a pink umbrella and a bag of Chinese take out with the other. 

The rain falling has emptied the streets of any people. It’s almost peaceful and gives White time to think. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t just tell Billy he loves him. When he and Rust were together he said it every day. How is this any different? The rain must be soaking into his brain or something. Hurrying back to the hotel, he sees that Billy hadn’t pushed the beds together. He is sitting on the one farther from the door, an obnoxious reality show blaring from the screen.  
Gritting his teeth, White pretends it doesn’t hurt for Billy to snub him in such a fashion. They’ve shared a bed even when they were just business partners. They’ve slept apart before. Like when White has passed out at Rusty’s or Billy’s been kidnapped. It’s not a big deal. Maybe if he says it enough times, he’ll believe it.

Presenting the bag of Chinese, he shakes the umbrella dry. Outside the door of course. Billy’s bitched about him letting his umbrella mold enough times. He places the bag of food on “his” bed and sorts it out. Billy turns away from the TV to watch as White makes himself useful. He places the boxes that contain what he ordered for Billy in front of Billy before shuffling back to “his” bed. White smiles when Billy thanks him, the first thing he’s said to him since this morning. He can salvage this day yet. Mouth full of rice, he gestures towards the remote. Billy tosses him the remote, careful to aim off center so that White can catch it with his hand and not his face. Aim holding true, White catches the remote and starts flipping through the channels.

Everything he sees looks like crap and he is about to give up hope. Then he sees a special on Robotics on the History channel. Both of them have always been a sucker for anything robots. White remembers the time he and Billy bought a couple of Roombas from a garage sale. They didn’t work at all so they gutted them to make actual fighting robots. He named his Zeus while Billy named his HK-47. Billy’s robot ended up self destructing, taking White’s robot with it. In the interest of not wanting to argue over who won, White cleaned up the exploded robots. Billy made the victory margaritas. There is still a soot stain in the carpet from that. 

White realizes that the special is actually a few years old. And that they’ve already watched it when it first came out. It’s still better then trashy television in White’s opinion. Eating their Chinese take out, White can’t help but look over at Billy every now and again. Billy is always his favorite subject to study. Not that he’ll say that out loud. He made eye contact with Billy once and looked away before resuming his not as secret spying. White watches Billy close the empty box before sliding the chopsticks into the flap. He looks over at White, biting his lip. White puts his box down, turning his head to look at Billy. 

“They’re putting the screws in wrong,” Billy says.  
“Oh yeah?” White asks.

White turns to watch the show as Billy gestures at the TV with wild gestures. He’ll take Billy’s word for it. Billy talking at him is way more important to him then a special that can’t assemble a robot the right way. He resumes his meal, nodding when appropriate.  
His entire attention is on Billy’s voice. White doesn’t even notice when the show changes to some Pawn Star clone. Billy is still going on about robots. Shaking his head, White knows that Billy could go on all night if even half a chance. His dinner finished, White crushes the empty box into the other empty box. Turning around, he grabs the box he saved for last. He gets up to sit on Billy’s bed, box in hand.  
Billy eyes the box with distrust, the plain white Styrofoam box sitting in White’s lap. Rolling his eyes, he pops the box open, revealing four rows of dessert sushi. White grabs one of the rolls and pops it in Billy’s open mouth, silencing any protests. White can’t stand the stuff, but he knows Billy is crazy about dessert sushi.

White is feeding Billy the fruit filled rolls while the TV blares about old antique crap. Placing the box on the bed, he grabs the small forgotten container of raspberry dipping sauce. In his hurry to grab the sauce, he steps on the remote that he knocked to the floor when he switched beds. They both turn to stare at the screen now emitting loud, fake moans. Billy’s large head turns to the side as White’s pale cheeks flare red. Fumbling for the remote, he manages to change it to a nature documentary about honey badgers. Chuckling, White sits back on the bed, dipping sauce placed in the box.

Settling back on the bed, he cracks open the sealed sauce, still not able to make eye contact with Billy. White grabs one of the rolls with his bare hands, dipping it in the ruby red sauce. He whistles to get Billy’s attention before popping the dessert in his mouth. A dribble of red sauce clings to White’s manicured nails. Something that doesn’t escape Billy’s attention. Green focusing on red, Billy wraps his lips around his index finger. White feels a pleasurable shudder roll down his back as Billy licks the sauce off. His lips lingering a second longer then necessary. Not that he minds. Eyes locked on Billy’s lips, White bites his bottom lip. Hand shaking, he closes the sushi box, wanting a different kind of dessert. Hand on Billy’s knee for leverage, he leans forward, heart racing. After an entire day of the silent treatment because of a mistake, White isn’t willing to risk another day of it. . Placing his other hand on Billy’s cheek, he looks him in the eye before continuing any further.  
“You want this?” White asks.

Billy nods, leaning forward. White tosses the closed styrofoam box onto the empty bed. Capturing his lips, White pushes Billy onto the bed. Sliding his hand onto Billy’s chest, he aims to show the quizboy how much he means to him. Un-buttoning the tacky green Hawaiian shirt, White pushing the shirt out of his way. Running his hands down the bare chest, he smiles as Billy arches towards his touch. White takes one of his Billy’s nipples in his mouth. Snaking his hand down, he unzips the quizboy’s khakis. Tugging the pants down, he slides his hand in Billy’s underwear through the front slit. Long fingers wrap around the shaft, a whiny, gaspy moan coming from Billy at the contact. White purrs, loving every moan and gasp coming from the quizboy. 

Trying to take it slow, White pauses so he can remove Billy’s khakis. Dragging the new green underwear with the khakis, White feels his cheeks flush. No matter how many times he sees it, he’ll always be a bit surprised by the size of Billy’s member. Hand on his thigh, White feels his heart thumping . Running his tongue across his dry lips, he places soft kisses down Billy’s soft belly. Lapping at the extended belly button, he is rewarded with a loud moan from Billy.

Encouraged, White runs his hands down Billy’s legs, parting them with ease. He licks the tip of Billy’s hardening member. It’s been a long time since he’s done this. Billy whines loud and White hums at the energetic reaction from the quizboy. Getting a bit more confident, White wraps his mouth around Billy’s cock. Billy’s handscling to White’s pale hair urge him onward. The brush of tongue against steely cock. The tangy sweet scent of sweat and generic body wash intermingling in a heady aroma fill White’s mind. The needy whiny noises coming from his lover as he worships Billy’s cock with his mouth. Long casual strokes drag the quizboy closer and closer to nirvana. White lavishes the hard cock with increased fervor. Grabbing handfuls of snow white hair, Billy yowls his name as he comes. Hands fall to his side, panting as he basks. 

White tries not to gag on the salty flavour of cum. Rushing to the bathroom, he spits the white fluid into the sink. Dragging in long breathes, he tries not to think about the lingering flavour on his tongue. He didn’t think that he’d still be having flashbacks like that after all this time. A rather shameful period of his time that he’d rather forget. It was after Billy left. Last of his ownmoney sunk into the trailer, he still had the itch. His dealer was more then happy to negotiate for the drugs. Addicted and desperate for a fix, he did what he thought he never thought he would do. He still had access to Billy’s money and could have used it. But he was hoping Billy would come back. The coke didn’t make the shame of what he did any easier to deal with afterwards.

Like a sign from the heavens, the next day, Billy was left on his door step. With Billy’s help, he got clean. He still smokes pot every now and again, but it’s almost legal. Grabbing a small red bottle marked mouth wash, he downs the bottle. Swishing the cinnamon liquid in his mouth before spitting the burning liquid out. Walking back into the bedroom, he smiles at the quizboy still basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. Billy rolls over, a goofy grin on his face. White walks over to the bed and slides up next to Billy, scooping him up in his arms. Shifting to a more comfortable position, Billy rubs his face on White’s chest. 

Arms wrapped around Billy, White tries to keep his body’s urges in check. Tonight is about the quizboy’s needs, not his. Neither Billy nor his cock got the memo. Trying to adjust himself so that he isn’t pressing against the naked quizboy, he looks at Billy. HE swears he saw a grin on his face. Craning his neck for a better look, he sees that Billy is smiling. Enjoying the predicament that he’s put himself in, no doubt. White closes his eyes, trying to keep himself calm as Billy straddles his stomach. Billy starts pulling his shirt up and White pulls it down. Looking at the quizboy with alarm, and yes, lust in his eyes, he laughs.

“Pally, what are you doing?” White asks, scooting up on the bed, leaning on his elbows, hands on Billy’s hips.  
“What do you think?” Billy asks, crossing his arms, looking down, eye brow raised.  
“That’s uh, not necessary,” White says. He adds, “Not that I wouldn’t mind.”  
“Then why not?” Billy asks, wriggling his hips.

White’s mind goes completely blank. Billy uncrosses his arms to rub his nipples through the thin fabric of his pajamas. His protests are shushed by Billy placing a finger on his lips and White shuts up, taking his shirt off. A devious grin on his face, Billy goes to his bag and digs around in a small pocket in his suit case. He pulls out a condom, a small blue bottle of lube and a long yellow tie. 

White eyes the items as Billy climbs back on the bed. Grabbing both of White’s thin wrists, he ties them together. He loops the knotted fabric over the the wooden frame of the bed. Arms above his head, White tugs on the restraint. Well tied, he swallows as Billy unties the knot in his pajama bottoms. Tugging the silk fabric down to his ankles, White blushes as Billy whistles. White looks away, still not used to the attention.

White can’t do anything but watch as Billy teases him with feathery kisses. Running hands through the soft downy fuzz covering his chest, Billy smirks. White feels his cheeks flushing as Billy plays with the hair leading downwards. Tracing patterns down, White throws his head back. Moaning as Billy traces the faint lines on his stomach with his tongue. 

Writhing at his touch, White bites his tongue, eyes rolling up as Billy sucks his nipple. He tugs on the tie, wanting his hands free to touch Billy’s body. The knot is too tight and he growls in frustration at the well tied restraint. He doesn’t want to have to beg even though it feels like the only way he will get any relief from the exquisite torture. Billy rolls White’s nipple between two fingers and White whines. His boxers are too tight against his hard member and he relents.

“Billy, please”, White begs, his voice breaking.  
“Please what?” Billy asks, releasing White’s tenderized nipple.  
“Don’t make me say it,” White pleads, rolling his hips. 

Billy tilts his head, playing dumb. Raising an eyebrow, he grins at the bound techie. Running his metal hand against White’s nipple, he pinches the sensitive flesh. Hips bucking hard against the naked Quizboy, White knows what he has to do. Since they got together, Billy got it in his head that cocoa isn’t enough of an apology anymore. Where he came up with that phrase, he’ll never know. He just knows that makes him repeat that stupid phrase before he’ll forgive him. Panting, he swallows his pride.

“William,” he says, tongue tripping .. “Can we make love tonight?”  
“Of course,” Billy answers, kissing him . 

Shimmying down, Billy grabs the lube and condom with his metal hand. Pulling himself back up with his real hand, he places the items on White’s stomach. He tugs off the red underwear, freeing his erection. Billy clicks the lube open, pouring some in his hand. Lathering White’s erection with the slippery substance, White wrinkles his nose. Is that blueberries? Trying to get a look at the bottle, he sees Billy hide it between White’s bare legs. A faint tingle creeps through White’s genitals. The tingle becomes a pleasurable burning and White purrs. Where was he when Billy got that stuff and how long was he waiting to use it?

Rolling the condom on White’s erect cock, he pours a bit more of the lube on the condom. White is mesmerized watching as Billy eases himself on his rock hard dick. He holds his breath as Billy’s deep green eye flutters shut, adjusting to his size. Even he’s not flexible enough to reach him in their current position. He tugs on the restraint, trying to get that last inch so he can kiss his partner. Billy finally cooperates and leans forward. White greedily kisses him, Billy’s lips moist and supple under his. Deepening the kiss, White tilts his head, trying to angle himself better. The faint raspberry tang of the dipping sauce on Billy’s tongue is addicting. Soft moans from Billy sends jolts of lust to White’s groin.

He feels like a cat lapping at a saucer of milk and White can’t think of a more perfect analogy right now. He wants nothing more then to grab Billy and have his way with him, that tie being the only thing keeping him in check. Reigning himself in, he focuses on matching Billy’s rhythm. His kisses become more hit and miss as Billy grinds himself against White’s pelvis.

He feels Billy tighten around him, a gasping moan signifies his climax.  
White moans with abandon. Billy whispers dirty, naughty words into his ear. Pushing his pale hair out of his way, Billy laps at the sensitive spot right under his ear. Nobody has ever been able to get him so aroused like Billy. Not even Rusty could get him half as out of his mind as he is right now. Feeling Billy’s teeth marking his neck is too much for him. Lost in a cloud of lust, he climaxes. Every fiber of his being thrumming as he comes undone.

It takes a moment for his head to clear enough to see that Billy has stormed into the bathroom. Blinking his eyes, he hears faint sobbing coming from the bathroom. Looking around, he doesn’t THINK he’s hurt Billy, did he? No trace of red on the condom, White can’t figure out what he did wrong. Taking in deep breaths, White tries to not panic until Billy comes out of the bathroom. Looking over, he sees Billy’s tear stained face and he feels a pressure in his chest. He can see the mismatched buttons on the shirt. A bit of the forest green underwear stick out from the khakis. His vibrant emerald coloured eye is cold, and he can see his lower lip tremble. Before he can even ask what the hell is going on, Billy grabs his suit case, green eye furious.

“Don’t you try and defend yourself Peter,” Billy yells. “I’m done with your fucking shit.”  
“What?” White asks, confused.  
“Don’t play stupid with me now,” Billy yells. “YOU SAID HIS NAME WHILE WE WERE HAVING SEX!” 

White watches as Billy slams the door shut, leaving him alone and tied. After what feels like forever, he starts to work on freeing himself. It takes a while, but he remembers it being looped over. He frees himself, still numb. Rubbing his aching wrists, he sits up. Mind still reeling, he sees the used condom still on his penis. He rolls it off, careful to not get any of it on him. Walking into the bathroom, he throws the condom in the grey trash can sitting by the toilet. Looking at the faint mark on his neck, he places his hand over it, tears pricking his eyes.  
Taking in a deep breath, he sees his phone sitting on the counter. Picking up the white device, he stares at the background on the phone. It was not a special day or anything. A random picture he took one night when he was not able to sleep. Billy was laying on his other arm, so he couldn’t get up to play video games. Scooting in close, he set the timer and smiled his biggest smile as the phone clicked. Billy begged him to delete it or take another picture. White refused. It was kind of silly, but it made him feel he was important having that picture on his phone. 

He tries to call Billy to apologize and patch things up. Each call is ignored. Not even going to voice mail, White knows Billy is screening him. Out of options, he sends a text. He hates texting and having to wait. When Billy doesn’t answer the text immediately like he has in the past, White whimpers. He puts the phone back on the counter, falling to his knees.  
Shaking, he flips the toilet seat up, stomach in knots. Last time he threw up like this was when he drank that cocktail Rusty whipped up. Lemon soda and malt liquor do not mix. It tasted worse coming up then going down. His stomach now as empty as his heart feels, he lays his head against the side of the toilet. He bangs his head against the sparkling white toilet, mind racing in circles. Why does he fuck up every good thing going on in his life? Every single time something half way good happens to him, something comes up to screw it up. What did he ever do to never be allowed to be happy? He’s cursed, he’s got to be.

Billy is the single best thing that happened to him. He has no idea what he’d do without Billy. Without Billy, he never would have gotten clean. He’d never have gotten any farther then a mediocre game show host on an almost popular game show. Dead in a ditch somewhere after a coke binge gone wrong. That’s where he was headed until Billy came into his life. That teenager sparked something he hadn’t felt in a long time.  
Billy made him feel like he was worth something. Like he was more then just an interesting sight. That he had more then the on and off again fuck buddy of a drugged out super scientist. Billy made his life better and now he’s gone and it’s all his fault. White never even told him that and now he will never have the chance again.

His heart is breaking and there is nothing he can do to fix it. Not able to handle the heart ache he is feeling, he stumbles out of the bathroom. Falling on the bed nearest to him, he puts the styrofoam box on the nightstand. Slamming the remote down after turning the damn TV off, he lays in silence. Curling up on the bed, he starts crying. Long, heart broken sobs wrack his frail body as he gasps for breath. He feels like he is going to die and can’t help but look forward to it. Overtime, his sobs quiet, throat too raw, and he lays on his side unmoving for the longest time. He finds himself almost drifting off, but he jerks himself awake each time. White knows he’d just dream about Billy and he can’t deal with that. He also knows that he can’t just lay here feeling sorry for himself, as good an idea as that sounds right now.

Forcing himself to look outside the window, he sees the mustang still parked in the parking lot. Small blessing in a way. Least he isn’t stranded here. Calling his Dad to pick him up would not make this situation any better. He’s not in any state to drive right now, but he keeps the keys in his pants, the cold metal a weak comfort. With new found purpose, he gets dressed. Bottom lip trembling, he locks the door behind him, and walks the unfamiliar streets. He just needs to walk and be anywhere else.

Hands deep in his pockets, he wanders the streets like he used to . Whenever he didn’t want to deal with his dad’s guests, he’d just walk around the town. It was a couple miles away from the mansion, but it was still a nice and small town. Nobody pointed and stared at the pale kid wearing an off white jacket and torn up jeans. His head bobbing to music playing on his grey headphones and Walkman. He wasn’t the weirdest thing to walk the streets anyway. This is a different small town far from there but it’s close enough for him to not notice the difference. 

It’s pouring rain and late at night, the streets empty. Just how White wants it. No need to worry about somebody calling the cops about a disturbed albino walking the streets. He rubs his thumb over his phone nestled in his pocket. He wants to call Billy again, but it’s too late at night to expect an answer, even if he didn’t storm off. The sound of the rain kissing the pavement in the soft glow of the street lights reminds him of the best day of his life. After years of tiptoeing around their feelings, they finally confessed their feelings.

 

St. Cloud was being a pain again. He’d stolen Billy’s mint condition Rusty Venture lunch box. White tried to convince Billy they could get another just like it. White even offered to pay for the new one, but Billy wasn’t going to let it go that easy. Following the directions on the note St. Cloud left, of course it turned out to be a trap. White ended up on a thin beam over a tank of agitated piranhas while that damn Bubo tried to claw his eyes out.  
Billy was busy fighting Pei Wai as St. Cloud monologue dragged on. White took a step back to try and avoid the robotic owl and slipped on the metal beam. He managed to grab onto the beam and was hanging on for dear life when he heard what sounded like a pissed off bob cat roar. He looked up in time to see it was Billy knocking Pei Wai over with a well placed punch to the groin with his metal hand. Leaping over the now crippled ninja Billy ran to White’s aid. On more stable ground, they shared a victory high five a moment too soon. St. Cloud grabbed Billy by the scruff of his shirt and dangled him over the pool.  
Without thinking, White grabbed the robot bird and clocked St. Cloud in the back of the head with it. Knocking him out, he released Billy who landed with a thump on the tiled floor. White picked Billy and the lunch box up before leaving St. Cloud’s hide out. Having vanquished “their” villain, a celebration was in order. Neither of them wanted something they’d have to wait long for or would leave a large mess. Billy grabbed a can of mushrooms for the frozen pepperoni pizza. White grabbed a two liter of lemon lime soda, a bottle of tequila and a couple limes.They bickered about which candy goes best with tequila and they settled on sour gummy worms.  
David Bowie was blaring from White’s phone. Billy attempted to dance without spilling his cup as they waited for the pizza to cook. White was happy watching from the couch, sipping tequila from some goofy cat mug Rose sent them. Billy placed his half emptied glass on the counter and smiled at him. White closed his eyes, chewing on a handful of gummy worms. Tired of dancing, Billy scrambled onto the couch, eying the bottle of tequila. White put the bottle on the other side of the TV, well out of Billy’s reach. White tossed his white jacket over the bottle. Billy had already had enough for the night. White wasn’t in much better shape that night either. White least knew when to stop. Billy would drink until he puked and White was not going to clean up after a drunk Quizboy.  
Billy busied himself with adjusting his eye patch and managed to make it even more crooked. White put his glass down, and leaned over. White straightened the eye patch for Billy. Billy hissed and White jumped back, afraid he hurt Billy somehow. White watched as Billy unbuttoned his shirt, revealing an angry red rash on his neck. White felt a new surge of anger at St. Cloud for hurting his quizboy. He pulled out his bottle of lotion he used for his hands and after taking a quick look at Billy, told him to hold still. White applied the soothing lotion to the bright red scrape.  
Drunk on tequila and victory, Billy must have felt daring that night and laced his hand with White’s. Swallowing, White’s eyes locked on the interwoven fingers still on Billy’s bared chest.  
“Billy?” he asked. “What are you doing?”  
Billy leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Lips brushed before they melted together. White shifted on the couch, free hand pulling Billy closer. Billy ran his hand down White’s side and White gasped, wanting more. Billy pulled away, cheeks flushed ruddy red. White blinked in confusion as Billy staggered off the couch. Did Billy not expect him to react that way? Did he do something wrong? Was he too forward? White’s self conscious spiral stopped once he heard the timer on the oven going off. Embarrassed, White polished off his glass of tequila as Billy dealt with the pizza. Billy plopped back onto the couch, handing White a paper plate with two slices on it. Not able to make eye contact, they ate their dinner in silence.  
White finished his first and got up to get seconds. Grabbing a piece with less mushrooms, he looked back at Billy. Billy had only started nibbling on his pizza. The silence got to White first.  
“Billy?” White asked. “We going to talk about what happened?”  
“We’re drunk,” Billy muttered, cheeks reddening. “Nothing to talk about.”  
“I’m not drunk,” White said.  
He hiccuped and glared as Billy snickered. He might have had a glass or two more then Billy did, but he diluted it with some of the lime and lemon lime soda they grabbed. Heading back to the couch, he puts his plate on top of the TV. Billy placed his uneaten slice on his plate and leaned back. White felt braver that night and took a chance. He grabbed Billy’s shoulder and turned him. Billy’s remaining eye widened as White mashed their lips together.  
Bold yet gentle, White sweeped his tongue in Billy’s mouth. The harsh bite of tequila and pepperoni on his tongue urged White forward. White pulled Billy in his lap. Billy gasped as he ground his hips against him. White pulled back, panting.  
“Might be the alcohol talking,” White said. “But I’ve been in love with you for years now. How about you?”  
“I’ve been in love with myself too,” Billy said, grinning as White rolled his eyes.  
Billy kissed White’s nose before curling up in his arms. Too tired to move, White laid back on the couch. The sound of rain falling makes White sleepier. Curling his arms around Billy, he lays on the couch. He fell asleep thinking about how wonderful he felt with Billy in his arms.

 

Shaking his head free of the memories, he needs some kind of relief. Like a sign from the heavens, he sees a neon light flashing OPEN 24/7. Walking into the deserted gas station, he heads straight to the liquor section in the back. He ignores the staring clerk. He knows he’s a sight right now but he has better things to think about then what some gas station clerk is thinking. Looking at the brown bottles, he grabs the largest size offered. Looking back, he grabs a second bottle. He puts the bottles on the counter. He walks back at the hotel room, drinking cheap tequila straight from the bottle. The first bottle empty, he lays on the bed, head buzzing.

He looks over at the other bed, eyes closing . He can hear his phone ringing from the bathroom and he perks up. Maybe it’s Billy calling, asking to be picked up from some street corner. Struggling to get up, walking to the bathroom isn’t going to happen. He manages to crawl to the bathroom. Pawing at the counter, he finds his phone and sees Rusty’s face blinking as the phone continues to ring. Of all the nights for him to call, Rusty had to call tonight. White fumbles with the phone, accepting the call. Before Rusty has a chance to say anything, White is already tired of him. White growls out “Rust, you already ruined my night and my life. Leave me alone.” before hanging up, face landing on the white tile, phone still in hand. He tosses it back on the counter, not caring if it gets damaged right now. 

Not wanting to sleep on the cold tile, White manages to pick himself up and stumbles back into the bedroom. He slides onto the bed, and rolls onto his side, arms hanging off the side of the bed. Staring at the empty un made bed across from him, he sighs. It’s not going to get any easier any time soon. Especially with how raw he feels. It didn’t hurt as much as when Rusty broke up with him. His alcohol addled mind tries to make a list of all the things he’s going to be missing out now. Billy waking him up because he had a cool dream. Watching his eyes light up when he gets the highest bid on some collectible item. Billy helping him with his “Computer crap” or with a hard game. Billy holding his hand during a scary movie while White pretended not to be scared. Billy comforting him when he had a nightmare or got sick. Hearing Billy’s voice first thing in the morning as he cooks breakfast. Him singing some swing dance song or reciting some medical tidbit as he does so.

Rolling over to his other side, White closes his eyes. Even with his mind hazy from the alcohol, he can’t look at any reminders of Billy without wanting to cry. He would give anything to take back what he did. Get Billy to gag him with something so he couldn’t talk. Bury his face in Billy’s shoulder. Stick his tongue down Billy’s throat so he couldn’t blurt out stupid shit like usual. Anything. It’s too late for such thoughts and he knows it. And the worst part is he knows he brought it on himself. It’s not like he was ever good enough for Billy. This was going to happen anyway. Kicking himself isn’t going to bring Billy back to him. He kicks his shoes off, the dull thump of them landing on the carpet soothing. Done with the day, he drifts off in an alcoholic haze.


	5. Didn't Have You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to Florida gets too bumpy for Billy and White has to face things he has ignored for too long.

His dreams were nonexistent that night, a rare occurrence even when sober. His phone stayed silent through the night and that made his heartache worse. Not even a text from Rusty calling him a prick or anything. Most of all, he wanted to hear from Billy again. Even if it was just to scream at him some more, he wanted to hear Billy’s voice. Even if it was just his answering machine message, he’d take it. But every time he called Billy’s number, he could just see Billy rejecting the call once he saw it was him.

The temptation to spend the day sulking in the room is mighty tempting to White. Drinking until numb, being able to push his problems off until the next day. Dealing with everything tomorrow like always. The only thing that keeps him from doing it is he would be surrounded by the smell of Billy. Left alone with just his thoughts is bad enough, he doesn’t need the reminders messing with him too.

Forcing himself into clean clothes, the shower helps wake him up. Looking at the other bottle of tequila, he puts it in the tote bag for later. He’ll need it tonight, that much he is sure about. He cleans up the room as much as he can, ridding himself of the styrofoam reminder with more vigor then needed. Throwing his stuff in the back of the mustang, he couldn’t care less about the condition of the car. Returning the key to the much too peppy clerk. Climbing into the Mustang, he turns off the radio, unable to listen to any music right now. The silence is deafening and none of his music will ease his suffering right now.

Driving through Georgia, he tries not to think about how much Billy. He always talked about wanting to go there. He feels a pang of regret for never asking what exactly Billy wanted to see in Georgia. Maybe he’ll read about Billy in the paper and it will come up somehow. Billy can go and find that young supermodel he’s always wanted and go and be as famous as he wants. White gave up that game years ago.

Looking at the road signs, a name sticks out. The name reminds him of something he has taken great pains to not think about in a long time. Following the sign, he heads in the opposite direction of what the GPS tells him. He’s got something he needs to do first. It won’t take too long and he’ll be back heading to his dad’s stupid party in no time. Driving his way through St. Ausgustine’s he rolls his eyes. What a weird coincidence that he’d end up coming here after all this time. Picking up a bouquet of pink and white carnations at a flower shop on his way, he parks the mustang. 

Looking at the gravestones, he finds the one he is looking for. Brushing off a stray leaf from the top of the stone, he lays the bouquet down. Sitting down in front of the stone, he crosses his legs neatly underneath himself. Toes under legs, hidden from view. Just like she taught him. Leaning his jaw on his hands, he smiles a wistful smile.

“Hey mom,” he says. “Sorry I haven’t visited in a while. Been meaning to catch up for a while, just never had a chance until now. ”

Leaning forward on his hands, he knows how strange a sight this is to people walking by. A pale guy with white hair talking to a gravestone with a ballerina mid pirouette carved in the granite. A sharp eared fellow in red with dark hair stopped to stare. His pale haired partner dressed in blue dragged him off. The sounds of the blue clothed fellow scolding his partner fades into the distance. White didn’t even notice. Running his hand over the numbers carved in the stone, he can’t believe it’s been that long. Rust never talked about his mom, so he never talked about his out of respect. Only time he mentioned her to Rusty was when his dad informed him she passed. He told Rust where he was going and he left for the funeral.

He ended up missing the funeral, but stuck around for the after service. What stood out the most at the service was how sympathetic everybody was. Nobody had to ask who he was. Just looking at him, it was obvious. The fair white skin, fine white hair, the piercing eyes, they could have been siblings. He didn’t say much to anybody there, lost in his own memories of her. Thinking about the care packages she always sent on his birthday, Halloween and Christmas. It was just too surreal to think he’d never be able to call her up just because anymore. Grateful for when the service was over, he never talked about it.

Running his hand down his leg, he misses his leggings. They were something that made him feel close to her. She always wore them, even when she wasn’t dancing. It might be why his dad hated them so much. He remembered them fighting a lot before she left for good. White remembered her telling him that she loved him before she left. He wanted to be like her, a famous somebody that everybody adored with lots of fans and friends. He didn’t want to be a villain plotting against some scientist who wanted to build a walking spider to love. It just wasn’t his style. 

Not sure what to talk about, he just rambles about everything that had been going on in his life lately. Starting a company with his best friend, getting an annoying arch enemy. Hooking up with his best friend after years of tiptoeing around their feelings. Being happy once they were together and how he screwed that up. He talked about the baggage he still has from Rusty. How he missed her and still hears her voice sometimes.

Almost predictably, his phone rings when he pauses to think. Digging in his pockets, he pulls out the white phone. Still working even after last night’s abuse, he looks at the screen. Crap. It’s Rusty, more then likely calling to ask what was last night about. Maybe even complain about whatever his sons are up to now. Rust is the absolute last person he wants to talk to right now. Sighing, White knows he won’t be able to avoid him forever. He tried that once. It didn’t work then, so why should it work now? White runs his thumb over the green ringing phone icon on the screen. Might as well get it over with.

“Hey Rust,” White says, faking cheerfulness. “Sorry about last night. I had way too much to drink. You know how that is.”  
“I figured as much,” Rusty says. “What happened this time?”

“Well,” White says. He might as well tell him the truth. “Billy and I , uh, we broke up. We were heading to this party I promised I’d go to. Along the way, he found out we used to be together and I tried to apologize for not telling him. I thought we worked that out. But then I yelled your name during sex. I was just thinking about how I never felt close to anyone, not even you. He stormed off and that’s the last I saw of him. ”

Running his hand through his hair, White can hear Rust trying to stammer a response together. Rolling his eyes as he waits for Rust to speak, he doesn’t know what to expect from him. Ridicule, is the most likely answer. Some snarky remark about how he knew it would never work out. Rusty has gotten a bit less self loathing since moving to New York. He might actually be of help right now. He hears Rust clear his throat and he patiently waits for him to speak.

“Sounds like you really screwed up this time, White,” Rust says.  
“I know that,” White says, exasperated. “I want to fix this. What should I do?”  
Rust sighs, “White, you’re asking the wrong person here. Every relationship I’ve had didn’t work out. Either because of other people or because whatever we had wasn’t real in the first place. Just, don’t do what I do and push him away. You’ve got to work this out with him. You two idiots need each other. ”

“But I don’t even know where he went,” White says. “He could be anywhere right now. How am I supposed to find him?”  
“Have you tried his mother’s?” Rust suggests, annoyed.  
“Rust, you’re a genius!” White shouts, standing up. “I owe you for this.”

Hanging up the phone, he gets up. Brushing his pants off, he sprints to the mustang. Stopping short, he sees a bobcat sleeping in the back seat of the car. That wasn’t expected. Running his hands through his hair nervously, he comes up with a plan of action. He’s not going to let something like a wild animal stop him from winning Billy back. He pelts the cat with some rocks until it gets up and leaves, growling as it pads off. Looking at the claw marks in the back seat, he shakes his head. Not a problem right now. With nimble fingers, he types in his destination. 

Once he gets to Boca Raton, he can just ask the old folks’ home she lived in before she moved. It’s not exactly a lie when he says he’s her son. If he just remembered where she said her new address was instead of just putting it in his lap top. Too late to regret bit bringing it along.

Heading off, he puts the Disney CD back in the player, mind set. Humming along to a track from Beauty and the Beast, he feels revitalized. He is going to get his Billy back. Somehow, some way, he is getting him back. White doesn’t have a solid plan on how, but he’ll come up with something that will work. Plans never work out if you think about them too much.

White focuses on trying to figure out what he’ll say to Billy when he sees him. It’s going to be late no matter how long it takes to find out the address, so it has to be good. No, better then good. Whatever he gets to say, it better count. He knows that he will only get this one chance and if he blows it, he’ll never get another chance. And that is something he is not going to risk by half arsing this. He knows he messed up big this time. And the only way he can make up for it is with a big gesture.

At a gas station outside Boca Raton, he sees out of the corner of his eye Billy’s favorite candy bar. Closing his eyes, he steels himself against the tears threatening to spill. This is going to work, it has to. Grabbing a handful of the Milky Way king size bars, he knows that he is going to need as much help as he can get. Making his purchases, White continues on his quest.

A straight four hour long line from St. Augustine to Boca Raton, White had plenty of time to rehearse. He still doesn’t know exactly what to say when he passes through West Palm Beach. By the time he gets to Boca Raton, he has a general idea. Pulling into the old super heroes home, he shudders as he finds a place to park. He never liked this place. Too depressing. He’s only visited when he helped Mrs. Whalen move to Colonel Gentleman’s.

Smoothing his hair into a more “presentable” fashion, he walks into the front door. Looking around, he sees the receptionist sitting at the front desk. He doesn’t see any rings on her hands as she types away at the computer in front of her. Walking up to the front desk, he smiles as she turns to face him. Already checking him out, White smiles. White plays it cool. He pretends to not notice her eyes lingering on his cheekbones before making eye contact.

“May I help you?” she asks.  
“I sure hope so,” he says, leaning on the counter. “My mother recently moved in with an old friend of hers and she forgot to tell me the address. Could you see if you can find a forwarding address?”

“I am not sure I can tell you, sir,” she says. “Company policy.  
"Sure you can, sweetheart,” he purrs, award winning smile plastered on his face.  
I’m sorry, Mister, what is your name?“ she asks.  
He offers her his hand, "Peter Whalen.”

She takes his hand and he kisses the back of her hand. Watching her flush, he can see her resolve melting before his eyes. If Billy was here, he would never shut up about that mushy romance stuff working. He releases her hand and folds his arms on the counter as she gathers herself.

“Mr. Whalen,” she says, “I’m sorry, but you might be a villain here for revenge.”  
“Her name is Rose,” he says. “She used to be Triple Threat back in the day. She likes knitting and loves show tunes. Would a villain looking for revenge ask the receptionist? Besides, I’m a little young to be one of her villains, don’t you think?”

Biting her lip, he can see her trying to decide what to do. Putting on his most innocent face, he cheers mentally as he sees her turn to the computer. With a few swift clicks, she has the information written down on a lime green post it note. Taking the post it from her, he places it in his pocket, thanking her. As soon as he walks out of the building, he fixes his hair to how he likes it. Looking at the address while programming the GPS, he squints his eyes. He sees something through the thin lime coloured paper on the back . Turning it over, he rolls his eyes when he sees she wrote her name with a “Call me, Vikki” encircled with a heart. Ignoring it, he tosses the crumpled post it into the back seat.

Shaking his head, he follows the directions . The sun is setting when the GPS chirps he has reached his destination. He arrives in front of the address and smirks. A typical little brownstone, there is no sign that three former super heroes live there. Parking the car underneath a nearby pine tree, he feels his hands shake as he walks up to the door. As he raises his arm to knock on the door it swings open and he cringes. Standing in the door way is Mrs. Whalen, arms crossed.

“Hi, Mrs. Whalen,” White says, arm dropping to his side. “Is Billy here?”  
“William doesn’t want to see you right now, Peter,” she says. “He called me in tears and told me everything. Rodney had to pick him up from a little gas station. You should be ashamed of yourself, coming here expecting me to let you see him after what you put him through.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, this is not going at all how he planned. Of course he would have told his mother what happened. Adding another layer to this is Action Man listening from the living room. From what he can tell, he is watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch with Colonel Gentleman. White can hear the snickers from those two as Mrs. Whalen continues to tear into him. He knows where Billy gets the fiery temper from now.

“Give him hell Rosie”, Action Man shouts.  
“I swear I will kick your Action ass,” White shouts. “I came here to pick up my boyfriend and you are not helping.”  
“Peter!” Rose says, startled by his outburst.

White can hear Action Man getting up from the couch. He doesn’t have to look to know that Colonel Gentleman is going to join in as well. This is not going to plan at all. All he wanted to do was find Billy, apologize and tell him everything he should have told him before. Then maybe spend a day goofing off doing whatever Billy wanted in Florida. Go to his dad’s party and then they can go home. The commotion stops when from the stair case, Billy shouts “STOP!” at the top of his lungs.

White perks up, trying to see Billy. Trying to look over Rose, he resists the urge to push past her and steal Billy away. He’s got to do this right and he asks her to move. She steps aside and lets Pete enter her home. He sees Billy has stepped down from the stair case and is eyeing him . Billy crosses his arms over the green sweater vest he is wearing. The smile fading on his face, White runs his hand through his hair.  
“What do you want, White?” Billy asks.

Hand on the back of his neck, he looks around the room. Rose has her arms crossed . Action Man and Colonel Gentleman have stood up and are glaring at him. Guess he’s going to have to do this with an audience. Taking a deep breath, White kneels on his knees, getting on eye level with Billy. He smiles, brushing his white hair out of his face. Swallowing, he takes a deep breath.

“Honestly?” he says. “You. I know it’s a cliche, but I’m telling you the truth. I should have done that earlier and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve done. I sure as hell don’t deserve it, we both know that. I know I haven’t said it as much as I should but, I love you. I just want a second chance for the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Can you let me try and make it up to you?”  
Offering his hands out to Billy, he waits with bated breath. He can feel Rose and Action Man staring at them. He can see Billy weighing what he said heavily. Finally, Billy leaps into his arms. White holds him tight, breathing in the scent of Billy’s shampoo. Whispering quiet words of gratitude, White covers Billy’s head in small kisses. Billy grumbles about all the things White is going to have to do to make up for his behavior.

A loud “AHEM” interrupt them and his cheeks flush bright red as he sees the amused look on Rose’s face. Pulling away from Billy, White gets up brushing his knees off. White mutters a half hearted apology to Action Man about kicking his ass. After a jab to the ribs from Rose, he accepts the apology. Rose turns to them both, a mock serious look on her face.

“It’s getting late, so you’re spending the night,” she says. “And Peter, I know you and William share a bed back at your trailer. But here you two are sleeping in different bedrooms. Understand?”  
Yes ma'am,“ Billy and White say in unison.

They head out to the parked mustang and drag White’s things in. Billy rolls his eye at White’s feeble explanation for the claw marks in the back seat. He glares at the bottle of tequila and the random snacks White grabbed from the gas station. Not like he was drinking and driving. He’s not Rusty, for Christ’s sake. Least Billy smiled when he saw the bag of Milky Ways he got him. The tequila stays in the car on the floor of the backseat.

They drag White’s bags to a guest bed room and White feels the bile raise up his throat. It’s like a cat lady exploded in the room. Everything in the room is some shade of rose or white or some combination thereof. Some paisley pattern wallpaper covers the wall. Various cat pictures hanging on the wall don’t make it anymore palatable. The blankets on the bed are a nice and plain ivory colour. The only splash of colour in the room are the kittens embroidered into the pillows.  
White looks to Billy for support. Billy hopelessly shrugs as he tucks White’s bags under the pink coffee table. Shaking his head, White flips each of the pillows over, revealing the plain undersides. Nothing he can do about the wallpaper or the pictures on the walls. Flopping on the bed, White is exhausted and in desperate need of a shower. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looks over at Billy. Billy is fiddling with the table cloth, trying to straighten it. The pink vase makes the task more difficult.

Getting up from the bed, White steps over to Billy. Billy steps aside as White drags his suit case out from the table. He grabs a clean set of pajamas out of the case, along with a couple containers of shampoo and conditioner. Billy never approved of him taking all the bottles from the hotel. They compromised with half. Looking over at Billy, he gestures towards his unclean hair . Billy grabs his free hand and leads him to the bathroom.  
White relishes the feel of Billy’s small hand. Billy releases his hand and shoves him into the bathroom. White knows that he made a pathetic noise at the loss of contact. He knows there will be plenty of time for that later. Inspecting the bathroom, he puts his pajamas on the cupboard. Opening the door, he sees an army of fluffy white towels. Grabbing one, he places it on top of his pajamas. Peeling his clothes off, he sees a post it note on the back of the shirt. Looking at it, he reads "Place your clothes in the hamper when finished.” written in Billy’s unmistakable handwriting.

Doing as he was told, he steps into the shower. He takes a long, hot shower after figuring out which is cold and which is hot. Wrapping his cleaned body in the towel, he dries off. Fluffing his hair, he checks himself out in the mirror. Brushing his hair with his hands, he gets his hair into a manageable style. Folding his clothes and the used towel, he tosses them in the laundry hamper behind the door. Strange, but nothing he will have to get used to. Walking back into the bedroom, he sees that a plate of food waiting on the bed for him.

Wrapped in plastic, he chuckles at the neatly placed utensils in the wrapped plate. He can see a chicken breast, still warm and steaming throught the plastic. A mound of mashed potatoes and green beans organized on the plate are partnered with the chicken. A simple note with a realistic heart drawn on it tells him Billy is the one who left it. He picks up the plate before sitting cross legged on the bed. He can see that his suitcase is open and emptied. Chuckling as he tears off the plastic wrap, he smiles to himself. He knows that Billy must have grabbed his dirty clothes and tossed them in the wash while he was in the shower. Digging into the juicy flesh of the chicken breast, he knows that it wasn’t just an act of kindness.

The chicken has the perfectly juicy flesh with the crisp skin crunching the way he likes. The flesh pulls apart without trouble and is perfectly seasoned. Hungrier then he thought, he devoured it in no time. Trying to decide between the green beans or the mashed potatoes is an impossible choice. Billy managed to slip into the room and sit on the lone pink chair. Not able to wait for White to notice on his own, Billy coughed softly to get White’s attention. White’s ear flush red as he realized that Billy was watching all this time. He saw him attack the mashed potatoes and the green beans with way more gusto then needed.  
Swallowing a mouthful of potatoes, he manages a sheepish grin. Putting the empty plate on the table near the bed, he stretches his legs out, turning towards Billy. He hangs his hands near the edge of the bed, leaning forward. Wanting to make good on his word, White mentally prepares himself. Watch beeping, Billy scampers off to grab the laundry. White knows that he set an alarm on his watch so he’d be the one who’d be dragging in the laundry. He’s serious about this, Billy far too smart to not test how much White actually meant. Billy returns with the basket. Dumping the clothes on the bed, Billy looks up at White.

“Where do you want to start, pally?” White asks. “We’ve got all night if you want.”  
“I was thinking we could sort then fold,” Billy says. “Shouldn’t take long to get them put away.”  
“You know that isn’t what I’m talking about,” White says. “Billy, we’ve lived together for twenty years. I know when you’ve got something on your mind. Spit it out already.”

White picks up a pair of jeans and folds them while Billy grabs a pajama top. Not folding it, just holding it in his hands. White lets Billy gather his thoughts as he folds his laundry. Common complaint Billy has is he never helps with chores unless he has to. What better way to show he’s serious then by helping with chores? The pile of laundered clothes are now all folded, thanks to White. Except for the powder blue sleep shirt Billy is still holding onto. He is holding onto it like a child with a favorite toy. White pulls it away and puts it on the bed. Tugging Billy’s green sweater off, White shushes Billy’s protests with a single finger. He puts the unfolded sleep shirt on Billy. The shirt hangs down to his knees. White enjoys seeing Billy in his clothes. Every chance he has, he tries to get Billy in his shirts.

“Why don’t you say you love me unless you have to?” Billy blurts.

White was not expecting that right out of the gate. He was expecting Billy to ask about his Dad or more about him and Rusty. Crossing his arms, he sighs.  
“Because I said it all the time when Rust and I were together and he always threw it back in my face,” White states. “I didn’t want you to do the same.”

White takes advantage of Billy’s stunned silence to pick him up and hug him close. He places Billy on the bed, ruffling his hair. Picking up the cleaned clothes and putting them away the way Billy tells him to. It’s a pain in the arse, but he puts the clothes away “the right way” instead of just shoving them in. He leaves a set of clothes out, he turns to see Billy staring at him.

“You never clean up after yourself,” Billy says.  
“Got to prove I’m serious somehow, right?” White says.  
The clock meows. They both start at the loud noise. White clears his throat.  
“It’s getting late,” White says. “You should get to your room before your mom thinks we’re up to something.”

Nodding, Billy slides off the bed. Before he leaves the room, he tugs on White’s shirt, getting him to bend down so he can kiss him. The door clicking behind the quizboy, White turns off the light. Only moonlight illuminates the room. Looking around the darkened room, he sees Billy took the empty plate. He smiles at the ceiling, at peace. Sliding under the soft ivory toned blanket, White thinks that things are looking up for him and Billy. Maybe tomorrow they can just goof off and act like regular tourists. His dad’s place is only about a couple hours drive away, and the party isn’t until the day after tomorrow. They’ve got plenty of time.

Rolling over, White doesn’t like that he isn’t allowed to share a bed with Billy. But Rose’s house, Rose’s rules. Rolling his eyes, White gets as comfortable as he can in the overly plush bed with the mountain of pillows. He knows he is crashing from the energy drinks he had consumed and all the excitement of the day. it was just too easy for him to fall asleep that night.

Soft rain covers the long arching windows in running rivulets. Staring out the window, White doesn’t really care about the typical weather. Arms wrapped around his legs, he wipes away a trailing tear on his cheek before it can land on his pink shirt. He has only moved from his perch when his Dad ordered him to bed, bathroom or dinner.  
Since he’s gotten back from college for summer break, he has barely moved. He hasn’t heard from Rusty at all since he left that letter on his bed. It’s been over a month. He knows he should move on from Rusty. Find something to take his mind off his heartbreak. A hobby or anything besides sitting alone in his room. But he can’t.  
His father marches in his room and White rolls his eyes. Not this crap again. He’s going to have some new idea that he swears will get White to stop moping around. Some party he’s been planning that White is expected to make an appearance. Or one of his former coworker’s daughters is in town and looking for a good time.  
“What do you want, Dad?” he asks, not turning away from the window.  
“Peter, my dear boy, haven’t you been sulking long enough about that Venture boy?” he asks.  
He crossed his arms over his sleek black suit. Tilting his head, White could almost believe that his Dad cares about him. Almost. He knows that his Dad is more concerned with how his actions reflect on him, not whether he is ready to move on or not. He can hear his dad readjusting his red sash while waiting for him to answer him.  
“You wouldn’t ask if you didn’t already have an answer,” White mutters.  
“I just can’t understand why you can’t go and find yourself a nice girl,” he says.  
“What if I don’t want to find a nice girl?” White asks. “You ever think of that?”  
“Peter,” he sighs. “I’ve been patient long enough with you. I know you loved that boy, but you need to get over him and your silly phase of being "one of the good guys” as you called it.“  
White growls under his breath. It’s bad enough he doubts how he feels about Rusty. But he’s crossed the line calling his life’s passion a silly phase. He gets up from his window and turns to face his dad. Fists balled at his side, White takes a step closer to his dad.  
"It’s not a phase, Dad!” White shouts. “I don’t want to take over your stupid legacy. I don’t want to chase some super scientist unless I’m married to them. I want to be a computer technician and I am not changing my mind. You can take your stupid legacy and screw!”  
White is knocked to his knees, his jaw stinging from where his dad slapped him. Hand on his hurting jaw, he looks up at his furious dad. A string of angry Italian follows, grand hand gestures included. He turns on his polished black shoes and leaves, flinging the red sash over his shoulder. Picking himself up off the floor, White lower lip tremble.  
Refusing to cry, he goes to his closet. Grabbing his suitcases, he stuffs them as full as he can. Tying his running shoes extra tight, he tugs on a grey windbreaker. He marches out his room, suitcases in tow. He’s done dealing with his dad and his stupid expectations. He’ll show him who is the family embarrassment. He’s going to be famous AND a good guy. The Pink Pilgrim is going to show everybody that he’s more then a pretty face and a nice pair of legs. He’s going to show everybody.

“White? Whiiiite?” Billy says, shaking his shoulder.

White blinks, looking around in confusion. The moonlight from the window illuminates the room in pale tones. The smiling kittens and the paisley wallpaper tell him that he is still at Mrs. Whalen’s place. But Billy is in the room he’s in. Turning, he sees Billy looking at him with concern. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he can just make out the hour hand on the clock. It’s one of the wee hours, he can tell that much.

“What’s up, pally?” White asks, suppressing a yawn. “Miss me too much?”  
“You were having a nightmare,” Billy says, knocking on the wall.“ Your room is right next to mine.”  
He quietly “ohs” as Billy climbs into the bed. White opens his arms and Billy nestles into his arms. Not that he didn’t miss having Billy in his arms. But he’s worried what Mrs. Whalen is going to do if she sees them together. He has learned she has a temper if crossed and he doesn’t want to cross her.

“Billy,” White says. “What are you doing?”  
“Keeping an eye on you,” Billy says. “I don’t want to explain to my mom that you didn’t sleep because you need to cuddle.”

White rolls his eyes but can’t argue with that logic. It feels too good having Billy in his arms to even think about sending him away. The moonlight illuminating Billy’s face, highlighting the faint wrinkles on his cheeks. White places a faint kiss to Billy’s worried brow. He grins at the blush on Billy’s cheeks, visible even in the moonlight.

White could spend eternity just looking at Billy. There are hundreds of tiny things that captivate White about Billy. The round cheeks that blush so easily. The faint wrinkles formed from countless smiles. The dull messy orange hair that he tries so hard to keep tidy. The plain and simple eye patch hiding scars only he can see. The vibrant green of his remaining eye. The way his eyebrows neatly knit together when he is thinking. The exuberant way he throws himself into everything no matter the situation. The shy smile that makes him look years younger when somebody compliments him. The easy almost lazy way he recites trivia about anything you can imagine. Anybody who sees Billy as just some former quizboy isn’t seeing the real Billy Whalen.

White knows there is no excuse for how he treated Billy. He’s surprised that Billy has put up with him for as long as he has. Starting tomorrow, he is going to make it up to Billy. Nestling closer, White doesn’t even mind Billy’s light snoring as he joins him in sleep.


	6. Something There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice breather of a day ends in catastrophe.

The smell of pancakes and bacon wake White the next morning. A note on the nightstand is proof that Billy was there. Reading the note, White smiles. Getting out of the bed, White rolls his eyes at the kittens on the wall. Thank god it was only for one night. It’s just too much pink in one room, even for him. He can’t help feel a little awkward changing in front of their large unblinking blue eyes. Smoothing his hair into a presentable style, he closes the door behind him, shuddering. 

White was on his best behavior during breakfast. Billy noticed the improvement immediately. Action Man and Colonel Gentleman weren’t up yet. It was just him, Billy and Rose talking about antiques over pancakes, eggs and bacon. When they do wake up, Rose changes the topic what their day plans are. White mutters something about more driving . Maybe some sight seeing while sipping his second cup of coffee. He doesn’t want to ruin the surprise for Billy.

Colonel Gentleman and Action Man reminiscence about the good old days. White keeps quiet. Out of Team Venture, they were the only ones Rusty trusted with his kids. White was a bit hurt that Rusty didn’t name him and Billy as their god kids. But after Rusty proved himself not dead he explained he hadn’t updated his will in twenty years. That helped take the sting out of it. He was more concerned about what Billy’s mom was going to think about him then Rusty’s laziness at the time.

Action Man is better behaved now that Billy and White have made up. It seems that Rose talked some sense into him while White was showering or something. That or Colonel Gentleman did. Either way, he was civil at breakfast to White. Not a word was said about his fifth cup of coffee or his distaste of bacon.

White will never understand the big deal over bacon. It’s either too tough or too chewy and always ruins burgers and salads. Whoever decided that bacon should go on everything should have reconsidered that thought. It’s bad enough that it’s even in ice cream now, but the soap and shirts and all that memorabilia is too much. White hopes it passes like all those food fads, and fast. After breakfast is finished, White offers to help with dishes. Billy still needs to tidy up his room and get everything packed. Rose declares it a wonderful idea. Rose and White are left alone with the dishes as Gentleman and Action Man busy themselves in the living room.

Alone with Rose in the kitchen, White hums to an old eighties songs while cleaning. Borrowing a pair of yellow gloves to protect his hands, he sets on his task of cleaning the dirty dishes. He hands them to Rose so she can dry them. They finish the dishes in relative silence. He puts the gloves away and is about to head out the kitchen to check if Billy needs any help when he hears Rose say his name. Turning, he sees her arms are crossed.

Putting on his awarding smile, he asks “What’s up?”  
“You remember I used to be a super hero, don’t you Peter?” Rose asks.  
“Yeah, I remember,” he says. “You tried to rescue me a couple times until I told you he was my dad.”  
“You remember the time I broke his nose because he said women don’t know how to fight?” she asks.  
“Yeah,” he answers. “Last time we talked, his nose still whistled when he blows his nose. What are you getting at, Mrs. Whalen?”  
“I just want you to know that if you hurt my water baby again, it’s not Rodney you need to worry about,” she says. “Do you understand what I am saying, Peter?”

White’s eyes widen as it dawns on him what she is saying. Mrs. Whalen is a sweet and dear old lady, but he realizes that with Billy, all bets are off. Message received, he gulps. He assures Mrs. Whalen he learned his lesson and will never hurt Billy like that ever again. she seems to accept his answer and tells him to run along and help Billy. Grateful for the escape, White goes up to the Billy’s room and knocks on the closed door. Billy tells him to come in. Opening the door, he sees Billy folding his clothes into the black wheeled suit case.

Stepping into the room, he closes the door behind him, the door closing with a faint click. The rooms are a calm beige, landscape pictures the theme of the room. Soothing sunsets and waterfalls and other such generic landscapes. Much more pleasing to the eye then the cat room. Looking around the room, White can see that Billy is almost finished packing his things. White already has his things packed and made sure that there wasn’t even a dust bunny in the room he stayed in. He didn’t want to leave a mess for Rose to clean up. 

They pack the mustang with their suit cases and promise to visit often before they leave. Rose hugged them both, a strange thing to White still. Casual affection is a rather new thing for him. She heads back into the house, waving one last time before closing the door behind her. White volunteers to drive and Billy rolls his eye. Climbing into the passenger seat, Billy turns to face White. White is fiddling with the GPS a bit, not paying much attention to the curious quizboy.  
“So, how long until we get to this party of yours?” Billy asks, breaking the awkward silence.  
“Eh, sometime tomorrow,” White says. “Today, we’re going to do whatever you want. So, where to first?”

White tilts the GPS towards Billy and waits for him to input the address of where he wants to go. Taking a moment to think, Billy types in an address and leans back in his chair. He looks at White with an almost shy look on his face before turning away. Eyes looked down, he studies the coffee stain in the upholstery. White looks at the screen and then looks at Billy. Of all the places Billy could want to go, THAT is where he wants to go. It’s not what he was expecting, that much is for sure.  
“You sure, pally?” White asks. “No Disneyland or that Harry Potter theme park?”  
“I’m positive, White” Billy says. “I want to go to Dinosaur World.”

White rolls his eyes at the stubborn expression on Billy’s face. Dinosaur World it is. It’s on the way to his Dad’s, at least. Just a couple hours away, if he remembers right. He went there when he was a little kid and had a blast. White isn’t all that much a fan of dinosaurs anymore, but Billy is a huge fan. As long as White has known Billy, he’s been a fan of every dinosaur imaginable. White doesn’t think he will have a lot of fun there, but Billy will enjoy himself and that is what matters. They can always stop at a music store on the way back if he’s that starved for entertainment. White double checks the directions on the GPS. The directions for the right Dinosaur World entered, they head off. Driving outside the nice neighborhood, White wouldn’t mind visiting here again. 

White enjoys having Billy back by his side again. Hearing Billy humming to the jazzy music playing on the radio is music to White’s ears. Keeping his eyes on the road, he hears Billy rustling around the tote bag he placed on the floor of the car. Whatever he is looking for he finds it without too much trouble. White smirks when he hears the tell tale sound of Billy opening a Milky Way. Billy glares at him before he starts chewing on the chocolate treat. White doesn’t say a word and lets Billy enjoy his treat in peace. 

Billy finishes the snack and tosses the wrapper in the back seat. He states is going to be in charge of cleaning out the back seat. He knows the damaged that has been caused to the Mustang is going to cost him extra, but that is at the back of his mind. He’s more concerned with Billy who is now silent. White thinks if he doesn’t say anything, Billy won’t either. The awkward quiet will dissipate on it’s own and everything will be fine again. That Billy will go back to crinkling a wrapper or humming along with a song on the radio. Or he’ll pop in a Disney CD and start singing along. He was wrong on all counts.

“White,” Billy says. “Remember last night when I woke you up because you had a nightmare?”  
“Yes?” White says, unsure of where Billy is going with this.  
“You were talking about your dad,” Billy says. “What happened between the two of you?”  
“Eh, you know,” White says. “Typical dad stuff. He was a jerk, I was a rebel. We clashed, I left.”

Billy tilts his head before nodding. White is thankful Billy didn’t ask for more details about what he was dreaming about last night. That would have been an awkward discussion to have before a day of fun at a dinosaur themed park. He’ll talk more about it later, when it comes up. Like when they are heading to Naples for that damn party that started this trip. It’s not going to be an easy conversation. One he’d rather have it later when Billy is too tired to ask too many probing questions. 

They stop at a small restaurant about an hour away for food a bit more filling then snack cakes and candy bars. A small mom and pop establishment, White taps his fingers on the table as they wait. The way the waitress looked at him made him feel a touch nervous. He can feel people staring at the two men talking about dinosaurs and which would win in a fight against which. Billy rubs his hand, taking White’s mind off the staring people a little bit. It’s not the first time they’ve been stared at in public. 

It’s still annoying, but as long as they aren’t asking how old Billy is or if White is his dad, he’ll just suck it up for now. When they were first going out, White was too embarrassed to hold Billy’s hand unless he whined. He’s a bit more open now, but White is still a private person. It’s none of anybody’s business about what their relationship is. They care about each other and they are consenting adults and that is all that should matter.  
Their food arrives and they continue their discussion. White of course ordered the special of the day, not caring too much.  
Turned out to be some kind of cat fish coated in corn meal, deep fried then served with some kind of mixed green salad. Billy ordered the house special, a cheese burger with a special dressing on it and an order of fries. White can tell by a drop of the pooled dressing it’s just ketchup and bleu cheese. He doesn’t want to spoil the surprise for Billy. Even though bleu cheese doesn’t count as spicy, Billy won’t eat anything with it on it. Billy needs to get out of his comfort zone more often.  
Taking a bite from his burger, Billy seems to be enjoying his lunch. After a single bite, his eye goes wide and he starts coughing . White leaps around the table and starts patting him on the back. The coughing fit passes and Billy drains his glass of tea. Clearing his throat, he peels the bun off and scrapes the dressing off onto the plate. He looks up at White and points at the dressing with the knife. 

“That tastes like that sauce you put on everything,” Billy grumbles, scraping it clean. “The one with the stupid chicken and Asian lettering on it.”  
White smirks as Billy covers the bun in ketchup before returning to his fish. His meal doesn’t need any modifications like that. Maybe some vinegar, for the fish, but it’s fine as is. They continue their discussion on dinosaurs uninterrupted by any other food based mishaps. The salad isn’t half bad, to White’s surprise.

Some girl tried to slip White her number but White didn’t even look up to see who left the napkin. He crumpled the napkin and put it on the pile of used napkins on Billy’s side of the table. He doesn’t even see what her name is. While he enjoys the rare positive attention, he isn’t interested in anybody but Billy. She could have been a dead ringer for the mother from Growing Pains. He still wouldn’t have looked at the napkin.  
White takes his credit card out when the check arrives. White states it’s his treat, no arguments. Billy raises an eye brow but doesn’t say a word. They leave the diner and White can see that Billy is thinking again. He might be wondering how long this will last. White leaves him to his pondering while he swipes through his Music library on his phone. He has had enough swing music for now. Maybe later when Billy is driving he can turn it back to swing music. Right now, he is all swinged out and wants some better music. It takes him a minute, but he finds something that he believes that they will both like. A perfect middle between swing and 80’s techno, David Bowie is one of the few music tastes they share. 

Plugging in the white music device, he waits to see if Billy tells him to change it. He stays quiet, but a soft smile forms on his face as his metal hand taps to the beat of the music playing. That is all the validation White needs and he breathes a little easier. An argument about music is not on the to do list for the day. White puts the phone in the compartment between the seats.

Billy’s furrowed brow relaxes. Whatever he was thinking about not as important as enjoying White’s company. White grows bored of the dinosaur fight discussion and changes the topic to new movies. Billy starts chatting about how he wants to see the new Hobbits movie when it comes out later that year. He’s already read the books so many times, White is certain that he has them memorized by now. Billy read all the books when he was a kid, and now has the entire collection on his tablet. 

White did enjoy the other Lord of the Rings movie Billy dragged him to. He wonders if he could convince Billy to dress as Gimli for Halloween. He knows Billy has been hinting he should dress as that elf guy with the arrows. He might still have a blonde wig from his game show host days somewhere. Of course, growing his hair out could work too. It would be way less work then digging in the storage room where they keep their things. Way less spider infested too. 

White enjoys hearing Billy talk about what he hopes the movie covers on the way to the park. Billy’s “geek about Lord of the rings” mode switches back off once White parks the Mustang. A close and shady spot near the entrance, White waits for Billy to hop out. White makes sure their personal effects are locked in the trunk. He puts the top up before they enter the park. He is not taking any chances with somebody stealing their stuff or trying to steal the car. Not that there are that many people who would want a coffee stained and bobcat torn mustang.

Hand in hand, White pays for the tickets into the park. Billy grumbles about being charged the “kid ticket” price. White points out some of the kids only attractions and Billy immediately quiets. Billy still isn’t happy about the ticket person thinking he was a child, but he’s not going to make a scene over it. White reminds him that since they think he’s a child, he should make the most of it. White points out a couple of the Kids Only exhibits on the map at the front gate and Billy’s mood improves. Sometimes, there are some good perks to being so short. 

Even though he grew out of dinosaurs when he was like ten, White actually had fun at Dinosaur World. Watching Billy running from attraction to attraction, smiling like a happy kid. His good mood was infectious. Hearing Billy correct the tour guide on the proper term for those things on a stegosaur’s back was fun. For White, at least. Him asking White to google it on his phone and proving the guy wrong in front of a crowd of people was icing on the cake. The tour guide looked like a whipped dog for the rest of the tour. The tour ended and they went wandering around the park for an hour until they found the game show exhibit. White egged Billy on until he finally went on stage. White was not even a little bit surprised when Billy won the grand prize. A large plush T-rex was the prize and Billy carried it on his back piggy back style. He rolled his eyes when Billy asked him to take a picture of him riding the triceratops prop, but he obliged him. He even held the damn giant plushie for him so he could climb on it. The picture is saved to his phone’s memory and they continue their day of fun. 

They stay until closing and Billy is smiling as they had back to car. Arms wrapped around his prize. He stuffs it into the back seat after clearing a seat of trash. White hands him the keys, fingers lingering on his palm for a moment. Scooting the chair back, White stretches his legs out. Not that he didn’t have fun, but his legs are tired from all the walking around they did that day. Programming the GPS for the quickest route to Naples, White leans back in the chair. Billy finishes his pre driving ritual as White settles into the passenger seat. Seat belt buckled, shades done, White is set.

Billy gestures at White’s jacket pocket. Grabbing out his phone, he hands it to Billy and waits for him to get the music set as the car purrs to life. White hears the opening to “Baker’s Street” and grins. Billy vocalizes along and White can’t resist joining in. Neither of them are anywhere near in harmony or pitch. They drive out of the parking lot, and White sings along with the song. Billy rolls his eye and ignored him. Billy concentrates on navigating out of the busy parking lot. 

Back on the highway, the song ends. Leaning back in the passenger seat, White closes his eyes . Why can’t they be like this all the time? Just goofing off between dealing with St. Cloud and super science stuff? Wind blowing in his hair, Billy humming to some jazzy music he snuck on his phone. This day could not be anymore perfect. Turning to Billy, he waits for an opening. He knows Billy has lots of questions he wants answered. Might as well start at the biggest mystery. Starting at the cause for the trip makes the most sense, so he might as well start there.

“So, what do you want to know about my dad?” White asks. “Open book, as promised.”  
Billy’s brow furrows as he thinks about where to start. Getting Billy started is way easier then getting him to stop. White has learned from countless geeky discussions over the years. They’ve got a couple hours before they get to Naples, so White doesn’t rush him. White taps his hand against the side of the car to the beat of the song. The metallic feel of the car on his smooth fingertips is soothing. Tapping his fingers against surfaces has always been a habit of his. It gets on his nerves but no matter how hard he tried, he’s never been able to kick that habit.

“Was it Rusty he didn’t approve of or you being gay?” Billy asks.  
“Both,” White answers. “The bisexual thing was more of a sore spot for him. He wanted me to be just like him, but I wanted to do my own thing. He always said I’d grow out of it, but then he realized I wasn’t. Real sore spot for him. Being friends with Rusty was bad enough. Being with Rusty was the last straw for him.”  
“Why is he so hung up on that, anyway?” Billy asks.  
“Cause my dad and Rusty’s dad went way back,” White says, rolling his eyes. “Rusty’s dad did something to my dad, so he declared themselves enemies. That cliched crap. Neither of them would say what started it either.”  
“Least we know where Rusty gets it from,” Billy teases.  
“You don’t know the half of it,” White says. “One time, I borrowed his shirt and I dripped mustard on it. He completely freaked out. Then he wouldn’t talk to me for a week, even though I got him like five new shirts to make up for it.” 

They chuckle at the thought of their mutual friend being so concerned with how his clothes look. Considering he’s worn the same “speed suit” that he buys from the same bulk store for the last ten or so years. White is certain that if those suits could talk, they’d beg for a merciful and quick death. He has to admit, the blue suit that he’s been wearing lately is a bit better. He still looks like he’s stuck in the early nineties. It beats the sci fi extra look he’s managed to cultivate for all these years. White doesn’t want to think about Rusty or his lack of fashion right now. He should be thinking about how to explain to Billy the other reason he never introduced his father to him. Especially after he introduced him to his mom. He’s even stayed over her place, so it’s about time he was completely honest with Billy. After all this time, Billy should understand what was with all the secrecy. It was hard enough growing up albino. Having you dad be a villain didn’t make it any easier. White will try to explain it the best he can and it will have to be enough. 

White turns to face Billy and is rendered speechless. The sun is setting and the sky is awash in reds and oranges and magentas. The fading glow of the sun’s rays reflect off Billy’s face. He looks just like an angel dropped down from heaven. The soft oranges of the sky deepen the sienna tones in his thinning hair. His pale skin is starting to tan after the days activities. An inch of pale shoulder peeks out from under the shirt’s collar. White purrs his quiet approval of the contrasting skin tone. 

The metal gleam of his hand on the steering wheel contrasts against the black leather. His other hand shows the faint scars and signs of all the hard work he does. His one remaining eye looks like an emerald glittering in the softening sunlight. White can’t see Billy’s eye patch from this angle and is grateful. The hand is less of a sore spot between the two of them. Billy has found the hand to be more of a gift then the missing eye the eye patch signifies. Having to work around a lack of depth perception was another hurdle to overcome. The hand helped with his dream of being a surgeon. Through sheer determination, Billy proved everybody who ever said it couldn’t be done wrong.  
White knows that Billy is the complete package.

The dwarfism is not as big a deal as some people make it out to be. He admits at first he was hesitant because he was worried what people might think. Over time, he’s gotten over most of his insecurities with Billy. He’s still sensitive about the “Albino thing” but if Billy can be out and proud with his differences, so can he. Billy coming out of his shell helped White realize just how much he tried to blend in with “Normal” people.

White used to be so obsessed with being “one of them”. He never stopped to appreciate the little things that being different opened him to. Like Billy’s handsome legs, for example. The plain grey brown khakis show off an impressive amount of pale and fuzzy orange legs. White could spend hours running his hands through the thick fluff covering Billy’s legs. Dorky striped socks folded on top of his plain brown shoes. The toned muscles on his tiny arms ripple through the blue Hawaiaan shirt Billy chose for their day of fun. The top two buttons undone, White gets a good view of Billy’s sun kissed chest and stares at Billy. He goes into an almost trance state. Soaking in how amazing Billy looks, especially in the gorgeous colours of the sunset. Billy coughs, breaking White’s trance state. White blushes as Billy grins at him.  
“White were you checking me out?” Billy teases.

White crosses his arms, looking out his side of the road, embarrassed at being caught. Caught ogling Billy like a horny teenager. He mutters some vague noncommittal noise and refuses to look at Billy. White crosses his legs, trying to hide his body’s reaction to Billy as best he could. Pretending to be fascinated by the landscape, he keeps his eyes locked outside the car. His arm hanging out the car still. 

The street lights lining the streets click on as the sun fades under the horizon. Stars start twinkling in the sky, the moon set to take the Sun’s place in the sky any minute. The long deserted high way is as pretty as an old timey picture. White could imagine a picture just like this area being in that room back at Rose’s place. White’s phone provides the perfect sound track to the peaceful night. The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust album is a fitting soundtrack to White. One of his favorite albums for as long as he can remember, he start humming along to the chorus of one of the songs. Getting his mind of his “problem”, the music coming from the device between them is helpful in that task.

By the end of Starman, White feels much less tense. Squinting at a nearby sign, White can make out the speed limit posted. There is no way Billy is going anywhere near that. Checking the speedometer, his suspicions are confirmed. Sighing, White swears that Billy is an old man trapped in the body of a young man. His back is already stiff from sitting in this car seat, he doesn’t think that he can stand it for much longer. Peering at a passing sign, White realizes they are just outside Naples. They’ll be there in ten minutes and then tomorrow they can go to his Dad’s stupid party.

Rubbing his arms, he can’t believe it could be this cold this time of year. Could be that he isn’t used to not having his thermal undershirt on. That could be why he thinks he’s colder then he actually is. He can’t wait to get back to his normal clothes. The pockets on this jacket aren’t as deep as his white one. It feels so strange wearing jeans and a t shirt. Like he’s a different person or under cover or something like that. 

“Billy, can you turn the heater on?” White asks. “I’m freezing.”  
“Can’t you just think about me to keep you warm?” Billy says. “It seemed to be keeping you warm earlier.”  
“I was not thinking about you,” White mutters. “I was thinking about something else.”  
“Oh really?” Billy asks. “What were you thinking about that was getting you so worked up then, hmmm?” 

Billy puts the top up, a compromise if he’s ever seen one. White’s cheeks are getting warm again and he pops the collar on his jacket . Zipping the jacket up doesn’t help with the cold. He tries to come up with a believable lie and is coming up empty. The pause is getting too long for anything he says to be believed. He settles on the first thing that sounds half way believable as his excuse. 

“I was just thinking about the last time I went home,” White lies.  
“And that got you that worked up?” Billy asks, green eye squinted in suspicion.  
“You don’t believe me?” White asks.  
“Should I?” Billy asks.  
“Why wouldn’t you?” White says. “You know I don’t like talking about my dad. Why do you think I haven’t introduced you to him yet?”  
“Because you’re too lazy to?” Billy queries.  
“Hey now,” White grumbles. “That’s not true. It just never came up. Never seemed like the right time to bring it up neither.”  
“Really, White? You’re taking that route,” Billy states. “Even after my mother asked how your father was doing.”

White is about to answer when he spots a small blur of orange crossing the road in front of the mustang. The blur pauses in the middle of the road, eyes glowing green in the headlights. He shouts at Billy to look out. At the last minute, Billy swerves the car away from the terrified cat frozen in the middle of the road. The abused car crashes into the nearby ditch, the sound of crunching metal deafening. White feels the seat belt jerk yank him back, preventing him from flying. His arm that was dangling outside the car screams out in pain, a nearby tree branch snapping like bone. The car comes to a complete stop underneath the branches of a gnarled and ancient looking tree. The air bags deflate, their job completed.

He blacks out from pain, the sound of Billy shouting his name ringing in his ears bringing him back. His entire face hurts, a warm sticky feeling coating his jacket. Pain radiates from his nose, and from the shaky breath he managed through it, it feels broken. He groans, aware of Billy shaking him, trying to make sure he’s okay. He fades back into unconsciousness, Billy’s panicked shouts the last thing he hears.


	7. Be in My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a hectic six days, they finally arrive at the party only for more problems to arise.

An annoying beeping noise wakes White. Interrupting his dream of recording an album with David Bowie, he opens his eyes. The beeping is coming from the TV tucked in the corner. A young fair haired woman in a white lab coat is yelling. An older looking man in a plain button up twirling a cane looks disinterested. It’s one of those medical dramas of some kind.

Not worth his time, he inspects his surroundings. Looking around the room, he sees plain white walls. A table of some kind sits by his bed and a large blue curtain covering what he assumes is a window. White has no idea where he is. He’s not locked in by the look of the opened door, and he isn’t chained down, so kidnapping is out of the question.  
The lack of brimstone and fire tell him it’s not hell. The dull ache in his cast encased arm and the desire to urinate tell him it’s not heaven either. He props himself up on his good arm and spots a blue curtain nearby.

He looks down and sees that he is in a dull white hospital gown, a drab blanket tucked around him. Arm in a cast, he sighs. Last night comes back to him in a rush. He remembers bits and pieces, but nothing concrete. He should have guessed hospital. After last night, it is the most obvious choice. Tapping the cast with his good arm, he flinches at the dull echo. Flexing his fingers, he can get them to move just about an inch in the thick protective cast encasing them. No matter how hard he tries, the cast has no give. No Six String Samurai or Wii for him. Least not until the cast comes off and Billy gives him the okay to do so. Billy’s the one with the medical knowledge, not him.

Turning on his now good side, he goes to make a joke about nurses to Billy when he realizes that Billy isn’t nearby. Now he is looking around the room, panic building. Not a sign of Billy anywhere, he starts calling out for him. Billy had to have survived the crash. He knows he heard him shouting at him. He can’t be gone. And he wouldn’t leave White without some kind of way to contact him. The curtain nearby clacks open and White breathes a sigh of relief as he sees the worried quizboy. A bandage wrapped around his forehead, Billy doesn’t appear to be as banged up as White. A few superficial cuts and a couple bruises, but nothing that won’t be gone by the end of the week. If that, even.

Putting the borrowed medical book down on the nearby nightstand, Billy hops out of the empty bed. He is wearing a green polo shirt and a pair of khakis, White is confused. Why isn’t Billy in an ugly whitish gown like he is? Billy sees White looking at his clothes with great interest.

 

Billy crosses his arms. Taking a deep breath, he explains to White everything he missed when he was unconscious. A passerby called 911 while Billy dragged White out of the car. Billy only had a few scrapes and was allowed to ride in the ambulance as they sorted White out. His clothes were too damaged to be saved.

His nose was more banged up then actually broken. The bandages were more for precautionary measures then anything. Billy promises that White’s face looks worse then it actually is. The area will be tender for a while and he should be careful blowing his nose and whatever. By the end of the week, his face should be much less colourful.

His arm is a different story. From what they could tell, his arm was broken in two places. They were clean breaks but breaks nonetheless. The doctors aren’t able to give an exact time for how long it will take to heal. They say no more then eight weeks, if he doesn’t do anything stupid in the meantime. 

White looks at his arm covered in a plain white plaster. Off white bandages cover the bulky plaster. If he was awake, he would have asked if they had those pink bandages. While the loss of a shirt and a favorite jacket is annoying, he’s more worried about what could have been. Billy’s larger head means a greater target for damage. He could have lost Billy. And he wouldn’t even be able to get Rust to clone him if he got that desperate. Billy walks over to White’s bed. White pats the bed with his left hand, and Billy clambers onto the bed. White pulls Billy into an awkward hug, holding him close. Trembling, he buries his face into Billy’s shoulders. Being so close to losing Billy after getting him back is too much for him. He lets the tears he’s been holding back flow, soaking Billy’s green polo shirt. He feels Billy run his hand through his hair, trying not to get any hair stuck in the metal hand. His cries soften until they stop. 

“Don’t scare me like that,” White chokes out. “I can’t lose you again.”  
“It’s okay White,” Billy whispers. “I’m here, see?”

White releases Billy from his hold. Billy pulls out a tissue from his shirt pocket and hands it to White. White blows his nose, grateful that Billy is okay. The bit of pressure hurt, but he can still breathe through it. White tosses the used tissue into the nearby garbage can. Billy tells White to hold still for a minute while he checked him over. White lets Billy inspect his injuries. Eyes following Billy’s finger, White appreciates the concern. Finding nothing to be worried about, Billy nods. Billy looks at him as White flips the blanket out of his way. White motions for Billy to move off the bed. 

“I’ve got to use the bathroom,” White states.  
White rolls out of the hospital bed. Not a fan of the gown already, he makes a mental note to deal with it later. Shushing Billy, he makes it to the bathroom without any problem. Looking in the small mirror above the sink, he grimaces. His face is a mess. Dark purple and yellow bruises covers his face. The white bandage covering his nose hides the worst of it. Poking the bandage, it’s a tender area he discovers. No amount of make up would be able to hide those bruises. Finished with the bathroom, he heads back to the bed. Billy is sitting in the chair near the bed, legs swinging in the air.

“Better?” Billy asks.  
Sitting on the edge of the bed, White nods. Lifting a corner of the gown up, he lets it fall back down. He can’t wait to be in his normal clothes again. Speaking of normal clothes, he looks at the clock and swears. Billy jumps, startled. White leaps off the bed, looking around the room.

“Billy, where are my pants?” White asks.  
“White, can you tell me what is going on first?” Billy asks.  
“We’re late for that stupid party,” White says. 

He sees the change of clothes, left out by Billy sits on the table. A nice loose t shirt and jeans, belt already looped through. He immediately starts changing into them. Yanking the hospital gown off, he tugs on the red boxers with his left hand. Those hours goofing around the trailer doing things with his other hand have paid off. He is almost ambidextrous now. A kind of different that doesn’t attract too much attention. His hand writing is still a bit sloppy with his left hand, but it’s passable. He will have plenty of time to practice.

“Your dad already knows,” Billy says. “He came to visit while you were out.”  
“Dad was here?” White asks, stopping in his tracks.

 

Half dressed, White turns to face Billy. Pants half on, face a colourful mess, hair somehow messier, he looks as disheveled as he feels on the inside. That is exactly what he was afraid of. He waits for Billy to start yelling at him about keeping that from him. Telling your boyfriend that your dad is a villain from the sixties is one of those things that should done. And Billy has every right to call him out on it. But Billy doesn’t look mad. In fact, he looks as excited as a kid meeting Santa Claus for the first time.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Scaramantulua was your dad?” Billy asks. “He’s my third favorite super villain.”  
“It’s actually kind of embarrassing having a dad be a super villain,” White says.

“Embarrassing?” Billy asks. “That’s awesome. Your dad was a super villain. That is so cool.”

“Eh, it’s not that cool,” White says. “Having super heroes coming by and trash your living room once a week gets old fast. You can never have friends over because your dad is trying to take over the world. You can’t even sneak out because you have a body guard following you everywhere. Trust me Billy. It’s not fun.”

Billy’s excited demeanor shifts as he watches White struggle with his shirt. Hopping onto the chair, Billy grabs the shirt and helps White finish getting dressed. Running his hand through his hair, he calls it a lost cause. He hears Billy cough and he turns. He sees him pulls out a plastic comb out of the back pocket of his khakis and motions for White to sit on the bed. He must have borrowed one from a nurse or something. White sits as Billy slides the chair closer so he can comb White’s hair. White sits still as Billy runs the comb through his hair, careful not to pull too hard on the fine hair. Billy steps back, finished taming White’s unkempt hair. 

Hair parted on the right side and ready to check out, they gather their few belongings. Billy mentions their luggage being at his dad’s, so he isn’t worried. They leave the hospital after an “actual” doctor checked White’s injuries. White knows he rolled his eyes twice as much as Billy, and it wasn’t just because he still has both of his. Billy is more qualified then that hack, and White isn’t shy about saying it to Billy once they are out of earshot.

Stepping out of the hospital, Billy informs him the Mustang was totaled because of the cat. It was towed away and the rental company has charged his account for the damages. White shrugs, indifferent. His father sent a car with a driver to take them to his mansion once White woke up. White groans and would have face palmed when Billy pointed out the car. Not that it was necessary. White could tell his dad sent the car a mile away. He resists the urge and just groans. Could he have sent a more conspicuous vehicle to drive them there? 

A sleek jet black limousine with a large red spider on the hood. A man in a blood red tuxedo with a jagged scar running his right eye greets them. He might as well have painted “SUPER VILLAIN” on the roof of the damn thing while he was at it. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, White and Billy slide into the back of the extravagant vehicle. Door closed behind them by the driver, White resists the urge to make a “Could be worse” joke. With how his luck has been lately, it just might happen.

Leaning back on the plush leather seats, his encased arm is itching. That itching is going to annoy him for the next few months. He can’t do anything about it but try and distract himself from the itching. White sees that Billy is sitting with his hands clasped together. Eyes glued to the floor, something is up. White scoots closer to Billy, swinging his encased arm around him. Billy looks up at White, a questioning look on his face.

“What’s up, fella?” White asks. “You look bummed.”  
“Just something your dad said,” Billy says.  
“Whatever he said, ignore it,” White orders. “If I cared about his opinion on anything, I wouldn’t have ignored his calls for the last twenty years.”

Billy manages a smile and White leans back into the leather upholstery. This honest thing might be paying off for him. Not wanting to pull his phone out, he looks around to find something to occupy his time. For all the flare presented on the outside, there is nothing special to look at inside the limo. Once you’ve been in one limo, you’ve seen pretty much all they have to offer. Billy is looking out the window, also unimpressed by the limousine’s interior. Billy is a way more interesting subject. Billy looks over his shoulder and makes eye contact with White, smirking.

“Enjoying the view?” Billy asks.  
“Why don’t you come over here and find out?” White answers, grinning .

Billy turns and walks on the seat next to White. White tugs the quizboy into his lap, and kisses him. Billy wraps his arms around White’s waist, nestled safely in White’s embrace. White missed this the most. Going a day without Billy by his side is unthinkable for him. Right arm hanging uselessly by his side, White runs his left hand through Billy’s hair. He enjoys the soft texture between his fingers. Must have snuck a shower while he was out because he smells like cinnamon. His face is baby soft, not a trace of stubble. Deepening the kiss, White can taste the off brand tooth paste on Billy’s breath. Soft moans escape from White as Billy runs his nimble hands up and down his back. Billy grinds against White and White growls. If they weren’t in the back of a limousine, White would already have Billy screaming his name.

A loud “AHEM” drags their attention away from each other. Blinking at the sudden increase in light, White sees that they have arrived at his dad’s place. The valet opened the door and his dad greeting them. Billy’s cheeks flush deep red as he scampers off White’s lap. Billy mumbles an apology, eyes down. White reacts in the exact opposite fashion. White flashes his most sardonic grin at his dad. Looking behind, he grabs Billy’s hand as he climbs out of the vehicle. He would have hopped out of the car if he was able. Door slammed shut behind them, the valet disappears with a bow. Wearing his signature red silk scarf and grey black suit, White rolls his eyes. He should have known his dad would make sure that he got there. 

“Hey dad,” White greets.  
“Hello Peter. I see you have been well,” he says. “And this must be your friend, Billy. We talked at the hospital.”  
“Boyfriend,” White corrects . “That’s what he’s told me.”  
“We have much to talk about,” he says, wrapping an arm around White.

Billy and White is dragged inside the large mansion. White visibly flinches when he sees the large crowd of people milling about the dining hall. Even though it has been years, he recognizes most of the party members as former super villains. The people he doesn’t recognize he assumes are family members of the villains. The room is packed with happy party goers. 

Keeping Billy close, White is going to make sure that nobody has a chance to lay a finger on him. Billy might not know it, but he’s a legacy. A lot of people in this room would love for a chance for them or their kids to menace him. While most of them would be better arch enemies then St. Cloud it wouldn’t be worth the headache. White doesn’t need his dad to have an excuse to keep pestering him. He pesters him enough as it is. 

Escaping when his dad is distracted by an old villain calling at him, White slips away to the punch table. Billy fills a cup for himself and passes one to White. Sipping the red fruity beverage, White is disappointed that it’s nonalcoholic. He can get drunk later then. He and Billy can celebrate surviving this with alcohol. Billy clings to his side like a star struck child. It dawns on White that Billy isn’t used to being surrounded with famous people like he and Rust are. Billy is in super villain fanboy heaven right now. White has to think quickly to keep Billy from losing his mind in a fervor of fanboy geekery. Thinking quick was never his strong suit. Bending down, he pulls Billy close so he can whisper in his ear. 

“If you swear to behave, I’ll talk to dad about giving me some of his old villain stuff ,” White whispers. “I’ll even have him sign it. Deal?”  
Billy nods his head in agreement. White knows that St. Cloud would be pissed if Billy was gifted some old super villain memorabilia. Especially from one of the most famous names in super villainy. The perfect bribery to keep Billy in line. Crisis averted, White takes a minute to look around the room. 

He hates to admit it, but his dad did go all out for this party. Colorful streamers tied around the pillars add a nice splash of colour to the ivory coloured room. Deep red balloons float from each table. “Happy birthday” in elegant silver letters written on each. White can hear a band playing some classical music from somewhere hidden. A dark red banner hangs from one of the balconies. Large silver lettering spelling out his dad’s name in a bold and clear font. The table with the red punch is loaded with every Italian delicacy one could imagine.

Contrary to popular belief, Italian food is way more then garlic bread and some kind of noodle. Looking at the table, White needs time to figure out where to start. Thick, luscious stews filled with beautiful cubes of meat and carrots and other vegetables. Plates piled high with meatballs browned to perfection. Whole fillets of cod lay on silver platters, the skin charred with obvious skill. Olives stuffed with meats and cheeses on platters sit between pots of succulent dips. And yes, there is plenty of hand crafted pasta and garlic bread offerings as well. White spots fried rice balls oozing with cheese but makes a beeline for the coffee instead. Food can wait, caffeine can not. 

White grabs a cup of plain coffee, pouring cream and sugar in until it turns a delightful light brown. Drinking the caffeinated beverage helps restore a sense of normalcy to White. Up until he feels his arm get tugged by somebody. Looking around, he should have guessed. The minute he didn’t have Billy glued to his side, his dad appeared. He then dragged him to talk to some of his old friends. White did not want to talk to Lady Deathclaws about her cats. He deals with that enough with his day job. Having just told Billy to behave, White can’t make a scene like he usually would in this situation. And without alcohol, he wouldn’t be able to get a away with it either. Billy tags along, keeping close to the only person he knows at this party, munching a piece of garlic bread. 

“This is my son Peter,” Scaramantula says, arm wrapped around him. “And this is his friend, Billy.”  
“Boyfriend,” White corrects. 

White looks at his dad and closes his eyes as his dad and his friend talk about the good old days. And so it repeated. Every time, he’d introduce White to somebody and then call Billy anything but what he is. Partner, business associate, companion, side kick. White knows that he is doing it on purpose by the fifth introduction. Him hinting there was plenty of women at the party cinched it. White growled he already had somebody. pointing at Billy with his encased arm proved fruitless. Billy whispers for White to just let it go, tugging on the edge of his shirt. And White does as Billy tells him. They manage to escape from his dad and make their way back to the table.

He smiles and makes awkward small talk with various villains as he fills a plate with an assortment of food. He shoos Billy away from what he recognizes as a rabbit dish. He remembers Billy reacted when they heard that new restaurant in town served rabbit. White was just as horrified, having had a plethora of pet rabbits growing up. They both made sure to not go there ever again and were happy when it finally went out of business. After that, they looked up every restaurant on Yelp before stepping foot in them. 

They find a empty table in an out of the way corner and dig in. White tries to start a conversation about whether dwarves or goblins would win. But Billy isn’t interested. Picking at his antipasto, it’s obvious Billy is upset about what White’s dad was doing. White puts his fork down, needing to reassure Billy. He reaches over and grabs Billy’s real hand, gripping it tight. Billy smiles, rubbing small circles in the smooth pink flesh with his thumb. White leans over and kisses Billy on the cheek.

“You know you’re the only one for me pally,” White says.  
Reassured of White’s affections, Billy releases White’s hand. Picking up where White left off, Billy picks up the conversation on goblins and dwarves. Between bites of marinated eel and baked cod, White manages to start enjoying himself. They talk about the finer points of dwarvem armor over goblin hardiness. A lively discussion, White could almost pretend they were alone in a fancy restaurant. Maybe celebrating something like a wedding anniversary or something like that.

Speaking of weddings, White finds his gaze drifting to Billy’s unadorned left hand. White wonders if they even make rings that can fit on metal hands. He’s sure they could find somebody who specializes in those if they looked around. They live in an era of robots and giant spiders. It can’t be that hard to find a wedding band for a mechanical hand. A simple gold band would look nice against the grey metal of his hand. Shaking his head, he stops that line of thinking in it’s tracks. They are good with the arrangement they’ve got. Neither of them have any interest in marriage or anything like that. Just more crap to deal with, that’s all it is. They are happy with how things are. No need to change that.

Besides his dad being his usual self, it’s not a bad party. Even though his face looks like he got into a fight with an art store, nobody is staring at him anymore then usual. Everybody in the room has had their fair share of injuries to tend to. One of the few benefits of a room full of former villains. A beaten up looking albino talking about dwarves and goblins with a guy with large head. Nowhere near the weirdest thing in the room. 

They are left alone, most people being able to take the hint from how they are looking at each other. The two are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice that the party is winding down. Only the closest of Scaramantula’s friends remaining now. White hears the sound of a microphone being turned and turns to the source of the noise. He face palms and flinches, forgetting about the cast. He now remembers the other reason he always skipped these parties. 

Without fail, his dad is going to make a grand thank you for coming speech. The crowd will applaud, a joke about being a villain being easier then organizing the party. People will laugh. Then he’ll say something about being a dad being the greatest and most rewarding scheme he’s ever had. Calling his son to the stage and White will stand next to him, rolling his eyes. His dad throws his arm over his shoulders, inviting everybody back for next year. A final wise crack or pun and the party will be over. The guests will trickle out until everybody is gone. The cleaning staff will appear and start restoring the dining hall to it’s former glory. 

White downs his glass of wine, needing any help he can get. Billy looks at with him concern. They hear White’s dad call for everybody’s attention. He waits for his dad to get to the part where he calls for him to get on the stage with him. Right on cue, he is summoned to the stage. Getting up, he sighs, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. Billy looks concerned for White. He brushes his hand against Billy’s hand, trying to assure him it will be all right.

Waving as he walks up to the stage, he hopes that his dad doesn’t try and drag it out like most of the time. His complete lack of wanting to be on the stage clear as day, his dad cuts to the chase. Having heard the same speech enough growing up that he could repeat it word for word if he wanted to. White only kept half an ear out for what his dad was saying. He keeps an ear out for the applause saying he can leave the stage. 

White is aware that the speech took no more then at most five minutes, but it felt like an eternity. He just kept droning on and on, it felt like. White can’t even see Billy from up here because of the glare of the lights. It’s not because of his eyesight not being as sharp as it was when he was younger. A natural byproduct of not being having any melanin to protect his eyes. He knows some day he’ll have to break down and get glasses, but for now he is doing fine. 

White’s paper thin attention span is at it’s whit’s end when he finally hears the crowd applause. His father pulls him close and say some endearment in Italian. His Italian is a bit rusty. But it sounded like an endearment and he isn’t willing to look into it anymore then he needs to. Playing along, he smiles. Muttering a short expression he remembers translates to well wishes or something like that.  
“Ah, the boy does remember his roots,” he says.

White rolls his eyes as his dad squeezes him. It’s the only way to keep from yowling from the pain in his arm caused from the tight hug. Like he could forget the Italian lessons. And all the super villain training up until he left for college. He might not be able to monologue like a super villain, but he sure can flee for his life like a super villain. A handy skill when you have an annoying arch enemy to deal with.

White closes his eyes as the crowd “awws” at them. White might be a bit of a “star fucker” as Hatred said, but even he doesn’t want this kind of attention. Embarrassed, he can’t wait to grab his things and get back home with Billy where they belong. Relaxing as Billy makes sure he is recovering back at their little trailer in the middle of nowhere. Just him and Billy.

His dad continues rambling in a mix of Italian and English. White understands enough to get the general idea that he’s crowing about his accomplishments. He thinks he recognizes a phrase and his eyes narrow, right eye twitching. He must have misheard him. There is no way he said what White thinks he said. Especially not in front of a large crowd of people. White can’t remember if Italian is one of the languages Billy can speak..

“What did you just say?” White asks, voice low.  
“You know what I meant,” he says, waving his hand in the air.  
“No, I don’t,” White says. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”  
“Well,” he says. “You and Billy, it’s a how you say, a phase you are going through, is it not? Like you and the Venture boy?” 

He pulls away from his dad and looks at him with disbelief. You could hear a pin drop in the room. Some lines should not be crossed and he just skip roped with it. White knows he bribed Billy to behave at this party but White doesn’t care. He damn near lost Billy many times because of this trip. He could have died because of this stupid party. THEY could have died for this stupid party that he didn’t even want to go to. And now he has the balls to call his relationship just a phase? In front of a crowd of people, no less?

“Dad,” he starts. “How long until you realize that this isn’t just a phase? I’ve always been this way. And nothing is going to change that. I love Billy and he loves me. He is the smartest, sweetest and cutest guy I have ever met. There is nobody I would rather be with and if you can’t accept that, that’s your problem, not mine. Now if you excuse me, me and my BOYFRIEND are going to grab our crap and go home.” 

White leaps off the stage, making a beeline for Billy. He grabs Billy and drags him to his old room where their luggage is. Opening the door, it’s just how he left it. Their luggage is sitting on his old bed. The dark coloured leather suit cases standing out against the deep magenta blankets. Billy looks at the blankets, not believing his eye. White shrugs. 

“I did tell you pink was always my favorite colour,” he says as an explanation. 

Sitting on the bed, he sighs heavily as he pulls out of his phone. That could have gone better. He hands the phone to Billy, who looks at it curiously. He talks Billy through how to find a taxi service on the phone. A quick study, Billy handles calling a taxi service. White recites the address for him. Upon hearing how far out they are, they get an estimate of an hour before a car can arrive. Best they can do, they agree to wait that long. Hanging up, Billy hands White his phone and he flops back on the bed, groaning in frustration. What are they going to do for an hour? White is not leaving this room until he has to.  
“So, what do you want to do for an hour?” White asks.

Billy looks at the bed, a curious look on his face. A cross between mischief, disdain and arousal if White is reading him right. Billy moves the luggage to the door. White sees that his tote bag didn’t survive. He’ll get a new one later. It’s not like he used it that much anyway. White yawns, worn out from the day’s activities. Maybe they could nap for a half hour or something. Pulling his phone back out, he manages to figure out how to set an alarm on it with his left hand. Task done, he places it on the nightstand.

White works on trying to get his shoes off for a quick nap. Billy sees him struggling with the shoes, and unties them for him. He places them on the floor and hops onto the bed. Pulling his shoes off as well, he snuggles up to White on his good side. Wrapping his arm around Billy, he closes his eyes.

“Hey, White?” Billy asks.  
“Yeah, Billy?” White answers.  
“Did you mean what you said?” he asks.

White tilts his head downward to look at Billy. Billy heard what he said? He remembers the microphone his dad was holding. Everybody in the room must have heard him. No wonder his dad was so speechless. Looking at the hopeful look in Billy’s eye, White knows he can’t lie to him about this now. White kisses Billy’s forehead, holding him closer.

“Every last word,” White declares.  
“I’m surprised you’re being honest for once,” Billy mutters.  
“Last time I lied to you, you damn near killed me,” White teases. “I learned my lesson, can’t you tell?” 

Ruffling Billy’s hair, White hears Billy sigh before nuzzling close. White closes his eyes anddrifts off for a quick cat nap. The nap doesn’t last long enough for White. It feels like he just closed his eyes when the opening notes to “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” wake him up. Stretching, White sees Billy is still sleeping. Nudging him awake, Billy makes a grumpy noise before opening his eye. Soft wrinkles pressed in his face from nuzzling White’s shirt. Hair mussed up in that adorable sleepy way, White thinks he looks kissable. Tugging Billy up onto his chest so he doesn’t have to crane his neck, he captures Billy’s lips. Billy leans into the kiss, and White purrs his approval.

A loud knocking on the door goes unnoticed by the two love bird. The unmistakable click of the door startles them apart. White cranes to see who interrupted them and sees his dad at the doorway. Billy rolls off White and busies himself getting his shoes back on. He mutters something about getting the bags outside and leaves them alone. White gets up off the bed and slips his shoes back on, untied. He’ll deal with his dad first, and then he can deal with his shoes. That or have Billy tie them for him.

“What do you want now, Dad?” White asks.  
“I wanted to apologize,” he says. “I had no idea you cared about the Whalen boy in that way.”  
“Like you didn’t know I wanted to be a computer technician?” White says.

 

White enjoys the look of discomfort that crosses his dad’s face. He watches as his dad fiddles with his scarf. White slips his phone back in his pocket while he was busy, not wanting to forget anything important.  
“I see I was too harsh on you,” he says. “I was too busy wanting you to follow in my foot steps, I never realized you wanted to make your own path in life. If the Whalen boy makes you happy, then I will have to learn how to accept that.”

White is struck silent. His dad has never apologized to him before. Getting up off the bed, White hugs his dad. It was a bit awkward with his broken arm, but he managed. They walk out. White listens as his dad rambles about how he is going to be a much better father then Jonas Venture Sr. ever was. White rolls his eyes. The man has been dead for twenty years and his dad still hasn’t let the rivalry die. He doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed or impressed. 

Walking out of the large mansion, White sees the taxi has already arrived. Billy has already loaded their luggage into the trunk. White hugs his dad goodbye, promising to call more often. Climbing into the back of the taxi with Billy, White clicks the belt in. He tells the driver where the nearest hotel is. They can sort out the car tomorrow when they head home. He waves goodbye to his dad and turns to face Billy.

“Billy, you’re looking at me weird,” White says. “What’s up?”  
“You and your dad were talking,” Billy says. “And you didn’t look pissed. You patch things up with him?”  
“Yeah,” White says. “You could say that.” 

Billy rolls his eye and grabs White’s hand. They can deal with White’s issues later. White wraps his long thin fingers around Billy’s hand and smiles. This trip wasn’t a complete waste after all. Their relationship is stronger then ever. it only cost him two months of gaming. A record with visiting his dad. White starts up a conversation about which is the best Star Trek captain. Billy launches into an in depth and rehearsed speech about why Picard is the best captain ever. White plays with Billy’s held hand. Billy sounds so animated even after all they’ve been through because of this trip. Billy can go on forever on Picard if given half a chance. And White is happy to oblige him.

The sun sets as they pull into the next hotel. Billy pays the fair as White gets the room sorted out. A long exhausting day, they are not in the mood for much of anything. Too tired to do much after checking in, they change into their pajamas without a word before curling up on the bed. They will get back to heading home tomorrow, first thing in the morning. For the first time in a long time, White didn’t worry about having any nightmares. All his dreams have come true. They slept arms wrapped around one another, smiling as bright as their futures.


End file.
